


Rising Phoenix

by Bluest_Yeehaw42



Series: Hemo Invicta [2]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Blood and Injury, Catra (She-Ra) Redemption, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Major Original Character(s), Medical Jargon, Multi, Other, Owls, POV Third Person, Religious Fanaticism, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Swearing, War, Wilderness Survival, bi panic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:07:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 99,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23707366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluest_Yeehaw42/pseuds/Bluest_Yeehaw42
Summary: After a semi-successful escape attempt from Horde Prime's Citadel with the aid of the Aviarian Prince and Field Medic Tactus, Glimmer and Catra return to their home of Etheria. The War with Horde Prime has been delayed, but Etheria has much to prepare for in order to stand a chance against his forces.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Glimmer (She-Ra), Catra/Glimmer (She-Ra)
Series: Hemo Invicta [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706347
Comments: 105
Kudos: 142





	1. Sun Down

“WE’RE GOING DOWN.” Tactus shrieked as their ship descended lower and lower towards Etheria’s atmosphere. Their damaged fuel tank spewing out the glittery ichor into the heavens as they made a very sharp descent.

He had tried to flatten out the ship’s landing to at least let them glide on descent. But the ship was not made to fly on the wind, but instead shoot across the stars.

Clouds shot past them as he tried to pull up.

“FUCK FUCK FUCK” Catra shouts as her claws dig deep into the pilot’s chair. Glimmer lunged forward to grab both Tactus and Catra.

“HANG ON!” She shouts, feeling a surge of energy in her body. She was so close to home now that she must’ve been able to teleport. She just had to be capable again!

But it was in vain, as try as she might they didn’t even move.

“But I’m home…my powers!” Glimmer lamented in shock as they neared the ground ever faster.

Tactus could see the ground below them, and he saw odd red mounds of something he had never seen before.

“WHERE ARE WE?!” He shrieked, Catra reaching over and past him. Grabbing the controls and twisting the controls, sending them to hit the top of one of the sand banks. Just barely avoiding a massive red sand Mesa.

The impact slowing their descent as they plowed through it and coasted along several others. The internal gravity of the ship flicked off for a millisecond as the power started to die.

The ship rocking and coasting through the mountains of sand. Bits and pieces of metal flying off from the sheer force as the front of the ship crumpled. Glimmer felt something in her leg crack and pop, the Queen latching onto the pilot’s chair with fear. Tactus, who was strapped in, reached out to grab Glimmer and hold her close so she wouldn’t get further harmed. Sticking out his good wing, he pulled Catra in too, who had nearly been flung all the way back. Her claws digging into his wing in fear.

Glimmer clung tight to him, while Catra struggled to try to break free. Sure that his horrible decision to pull her in was going to get the three of them killed.

His beak started clicking as a stress response while their ship rattled with them inside.

His wings hardening into the same crystalized shields they had seen him do on the Citadel. His broken wing being instantly set by the action, something Tactus hadn’t considered but would later have the time to be thankful for.

The belt that held Tactus in place prevented the trio from being rattled around farther as he held tight. Their ship finally came to a halt. Smoke and sand billowing through the front of the cabin’s cracks. The visual holograms of the outside dimming and disappearing, the last thing they could see outside was their ship being swallowed within so much sand.

In the stillness of the stopped ship, Catra’s voice reverberated.

"GET THE FUCK OFF ME” The Cat hissed, squirming out of his grip. The still unclothed feline squeezed out the top of Tactus’ Wing Barricade, Tactus turning his head in disgust to not see anything. Her tail flicking him across the face as she crawled out. Flopping onto the floor of the ship behind them and getting to her feet. Assessing the damage already.

His wing shield slowly dropped as he looked down at Glimmer who was still clinging to him.

“You still with us?” He asked, giving her a small shake. Glimmer snapping out of her stupor.

“I think I broke my ankle, but aside from that I’m alright.”

Tactus undid his seatbelt, getting out of his seat and nearly slipping on some strange oil or grease that coated the floor of the damaged bomber ship. Oozing out of the walls from broken internals. Gripping the side of the chair for support momentarily as he let the claws on the end of his taloned feet grip the floors for support.

The Owl scooching over to look at Glimmer’s legs, taking her under the arm to help her walk forward and keep pressure off her bad leg.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve been able to teleport us out of here but I think something is wrong with my powers…ugh…I get wings and now I can’t teleport, just fan-fucking-TASTIC!” She griped, Tactus helping her work forward.

“Your link might be partially severed from that runestone or whatever it was. I don’t know a ton about all that from the files I read, but maybe if we get you back to it we can just have you reconnect, or maybe if we got you closer.”

He exposits, Catra already grabbing all the gear.

“Fucking Crimson Wastes…” She muttered in annoyance. She hated this place, too many memories of missed opportunity and sand getting everywhere. Coarse and rough as it was, irritating as well.

Catra pressed on the button that would have opened the door, only to find that without power it refused to open. This would be problematic. She grabbed Tactus’ medical bag off the ground, it was bulging now since it had both the samples of raw materials but also the tiny box of vaccines that Catra had risked her life for. Now both were properly sealed and well protected.

So, she felt it was just okay enough to toss it to Tactus, who only just barely caught it in his free hand while helping Glimmer to the midsection of the bomber.

“Patch her up while I figure out how to get us out of here.”

Glimmer was amazed that Tactus was able to catch something in what for her was total darkness aside from Tactus’ visor being lit.

Forgetting briefly that she was in a team with both an Owl and a Cat.

“Well you two may be fine in the dark, but personally I prefer a bit of light.” Glimmer sassed, raising one of her hands and creating a glow from it. Tactus’ second set of eyelids coming down for a second while his eyes adjusted to the new light.

Glimmer staring at him in shock, she hadn’t realized he had those. But she supposed it made sense. She always wondered how birds could fly through the air without getting dust in their eyes, as her mother had complained about in the past.

Tactus crouched down, slowly setting Glimmer down on her rear so he could look at her injured leg. Taking it in his hands and looking closely.

“Hmm. Hairline fracture I’d think.”

“You can tell?”

“Slight millimeter of difference. Ancestors could hunt mice from a mile away, but me? I notice this.” He exposits, going through his bag and finding some of the quick bone restoration potions and some bandages to wrap her leg in. Looking for something he could use to splint her leg with, even if she’d be healed by tomorrow morning. He wanted to ensure the best healing he could.

He stood up, suddenly feeling an ache in both wings, and his damage eye.

“How’s your jaw Glimmer?”

Glimmer rubbed the spot on her face. She felt the teeth were still missing, but she shockingly hadn’t even begun to bruise or even feel much more than soreness. What had previously been broken had healed remarkably fast during her much longer stint in the healing radius that had emanated from Catra while she was under the effects of Phoenix Fire.

“Better, how’s your wings?”

“I should be asking you the same.” He chuckled, looking at the bright pink wings on Glimmer’s back.

Glimmer blushed, getting angry and turning it back around on him.

“Hey now, they’re cool and all but don’t change the subject. I saw how badly you looked back there with what the Major did to you. Are you ok?”

“Fine.” Tactus states, reaching into his pack and throwing some coagulant powder onto the scratches Catra had left.

“The dislocated wing popped back into place and is a bit sore, and the broken one is on the road to recovery I just might need something.” He answered, taking a small sip from the cream-colored bone restoration potion.

“There, happy?”

“Very. You gotta take care of yourself too, Tactus. You know that right?”

“Of course I do, if I’m gone whose going to patch you up?” He replies, refocusing his attention to fixing her leg.

His eyes glancing around until he spotted the arm rests on the pilot’s seat. Crude steel bars.

Looking for his foldout plasma bonesaw, he pulled it out, flicking it on. The green hue contrasting with the purple glow Glimmer gave off.

“Why make a bonesaw this hot, I’ll never understand.” Tactus questioned the Horde’s intentions, moving to saw off the arms of the chair in a few quick flicks.

“That thing is insane.” Glimmer added, also shocked that such a thing would ever be used for medical purposes as Tactus came back with the rods he’d use.

“May be overkill for a splint, but we can reuse the metal later.”

“I am glad you know to take care of yourself by the way.”

“Oh?”

“I had…have a friend back in Etheria. Adora. Always pushing herself, putting others before herself. She always made me worry. She’s capable but she always bites off more than she can chew because she’s so worried others can’t chew on their own.”

Tactus mulled her words over. She was starting to feel anxiety over seeing all her friends again. He wanted to pull her out of that for now at least. Giving her the same potion he had drunken from before.

“I’m sure you’ll see them soon enough. Now drink that for your leg. Tastes oddly creamy, like some type of nut or legume.”

Glimmer observed the tan colored potion. She was becoming accustomed to Tactus’ healing feats, taking a tiny sip just as she had seen him do. The almond flavored aftertaste was strong.

“God, I could go for some chocolate now.”

“Never had it, is it good?”

Glimmer’s heart sank and she gasped, suddenly lurching forward and hugging Tactus.

“I swear to you, once we get you to Brightmoon we are going to let you try out so many things.”

Tactus awkwardly pat Glimmer’s back. His eyes uncomfortably wide as it was only just clicking with him.

Finally, he was free. Sure, he still wore bits of his old collar, but he needed the translator from it in order to speak. No shocks, no fear of routine beatings, or too small of prison cells. He’d have work to do to help fight the Horde, but he could do it on his own time.

But it was all still so overwhelming. His entire life was ruled by orders, from his family, to joining the military at such a young age, to his capture and enslavement by the Horde. To live a life where he set the rules and how things went, to sleep in a bed made of something other then concrete.

It terrified him almost as much as it delighted and excited him.

“Thank you, Queen Glimmer. I think I’ll need some help getting settled.”

She pulled away from the hug, looking him in the eyes.

“We’ll get you a position in Brightmoon, or maybe Mystacor with the mages. I think you’d like Mystacor, it’s a big kingdom in the clouds.”

Tactus tilted his head, considering it.

“That does sound nice.”

He turned to look at her wings yet again. Glimmer had noticed he was staring more and more at them now.

“Tactus…are you…?”

“I’m…concerned about them. Growing of new tissue too quick leads to complications, and I’d just…hate to see someone lose something so beautiful so soon after getting them. So please forgive me for asking but…”

“Go ahead.” Glimmer cut him off. Trusting Tactus. He likely hadn’t seen anyone with wings like his in years, sure. Though she didn’t quite understand his culture’s treatment of wings or social customs, she felt he was almost certainly professional enough to genuinely be doing this out of concern.

Tactus, however did feel somewhat uncomfortable checking her wings. He was rusty at this, but the fears in the back of his mind weighed too heavy on him to let this slide. He hoped she didn’t think too poorly of him or make any assumptions from this. Remembering moments where he had helped preen fellow soldiers’ wings during examination.

A flirty comment from her, dirty talk from him. It always made him uncomfortable. He just wanted to get a procedure done as soon as possible, and although social customs occasionally meant preening wings was flirting or something incredibly intimate, Tactus never saw it that way.

It was just supposed to be part of the job, and the thought of doing this for any reason aside from genuine concern made him ill. The bird questioning his own actions as he counted the feathers and prodded to find that everything was in order.

Lightly applying enough pressure to feel that he could feel her heartbeat through the wings. Good bloodflow. Good length, good color and fullness. No issues at the joints. Soft. Texture of feathers indicate a more-sleek motion necessary. Lines up with hummingbird-like motions he had seen before when she flew. These were not quiet wings but instead fast wings.

“Sup fuckers, playing pattycake?”

Catra barged in, carrying a metal crate and wearing clothes, finally. Eying Tactus suspiciously.

“Tactus was just checking the health of my wings.” Glimmer defended. Catra rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, sure. Anyways, found this old jumpsuit alongside some survival supplies in a hidden panel in the back. How do I look?”

She asked, setting it down and presenting herself. She had already cut off long strips of the coveralls to fit her frame, which was still significantly smaller than a clone. Cutting gashes and slashes into her pantlegs and tearing off the sleeves, just as she seemed to do with all her clothes. Even cutting a boob window for fun just as she had before.

Tactus shrugged, they were just clothes, and Horde ones at that. Practicality should’ve been key to him.

Glimmer on the other hand, nodded excitedly with a thumb raised. Thoroughly enjoying the trend in clothes Catra had been doing. Somehow, she had more sex appeal with more clothes on. She had seen what was under them already, but Catra running around without anything on didn’t quite have the same appeal to her as the tease of having something on.

“Thought you’d agree, Sparkles.” She replies, sticking her tongue out. Squatting down next to the crate.

“Not many rations in the crate, a couple flares if we’re dumb enough to want to get Prime’s troops on our asses so soon, a multitool hatchet, dibs on that. What seems to be a laser pointer, and one reflective blanket.” She counts off. Tactus shaking his head.

“Laser pointer is an understatement. It’s an actual laser, used for lighting fires.”

“Think it can burn through that door?” Glimmer suggested, Tactus looked down at his plasma bonesaw.

“No, but this could work.” He commented, handing it off to Catra. She looked at it quizzically, shrugging.

“Fuck it.” 

* * *

“In the Middle of the Crimson Wastes?” King Micah clarified. Unsure if he had heard Entrapta correctly or not.

“That’s correct! The readings say that here was a definite seismic impact, and from tracking the energy signature of fuel left behind, I can tell you the exact coordinates of where they landed.”

Bow spoke up.

“If they’ve landed in the Crimson Wastes then we need to move now!”

“But wait.” Adora fretted.

“Mara’s ship is still damaged from our attempt the other day to make it offworld and get to Prime’s Citadel. Without Glimmer we can’t teleport. Sea Hawk is helping Mermista secure Salineas so we can’t even take a shortcut through the Southern Water Pass. How’re we supposed to get there?”

“OH!” Scorpia exclaimed, reaching into her pocket, pulling out a pair of keys which jingled but slipped through her claws. Clattering on the ground.

“Oh, shoot. One sec.” She bends down, taking a few awkward seconds to try to pick up her keys before holding them up triumphantly in her claws.

“I still have the keys to The Blood Arachnia!” 

Bow was the quickest to ask what was very quickly on everyone’s minds.

“The what?”

“Ya know! The big flying Scorpion Cruiser thing that was my ride to Princess Prom a few years back!”

Adora put a hand up to her chin. It had been so long ago, and generally underused or mentioned she had forgotten that Scorpia still had access to that, and was a shockingly capable pilot.

“Oh yeah, forgot about that.”

King Micah’s eyes widened at the name.

“The Blood Arachnia? As in, _THE_ Blood Arachnia?”

“Yeah, ya know it?” Scorpia responds.

“Know it? I used to fear that thing when I was a kid fighting this war. You actually have the keys to that thing?”

“Yep! Passed down from ol’Grandpappy Stripetail himself! It ain’t quite teleportin’ but it should at least get us to the Crimson Wastes within 8 hours.”

Adora grit her teeth, that was still a long time for anyone to be out there. But it was the fastest option they had.

“It’ll have to do.”

Bow, always the practical one had a deep concern embed itself into his head. If they had crashed over an hour ago, and Glimmer survived, why wasn’t she here right now? He glanced to Adora and saw a similar worry on her face that made him hold his tongue from mentioning such a fear.

“If it’s going to take that long we need to move now. I want everyone available and mobilized in 15.” Micah orders. Entrapta squealed in delight.

“YES. I’m going to just grab the essentials and meet the rest of you down at the Blood Arachnia.”

Adora’s gaze turned to look out the nearest window. The sun was just beginning to set for her. But for Glimmer it had probably been night for awhile now. In the pit of her heart she hoped Glimmer was safe.

* * *

“You know, in hindsight that could’ve gone horribly wrong.” Tactus remarked, as the door Catra had burnt the bolts off of slid open with a crash to the floor.

“How do ya figure?” Catra replied, flicking the plasma bonesaw off. Half-debating on keeping it for herself but ultimately giving it back to Tactus.

“I get that it was our only option…” Glimmer began.

“But it very easily could’ve been a horrible idea to use a very flammable tool like that in a closed environment, leaking grease, and filled with explosives!”

“Don’t look at me like that! I didn’t hear either of you two clamoring for any better ideas! Besides, it worked!”

Glimmer crossed her arms.

“Suppose it doesn’t matter anyways.” Tactus concedes, looking down at the supplies then back up to Catra.

“Would you kindly? Hands kinda full here.” He indicates to Glimmer and his medical bag. Catra shrugs, picking it up.

“Yeah right.” She acknowledged, slipping the Hatchet into the belt of her coveralls and grabbing the crate, heaving it up and marching forward with it out of the ruins of the ship.

Tactus stepped forward, his eyes catching the night’s sky. It had taken him a few moments to realize that he wasn’t looking through a screen or some false art.

There it was, the expanse of space and all that came with it. Infinity onwards, and here he was standing on a rock hurtling through the universe at millions of miles per hour. He breathed the night air, which had an odd coolness to it that never came with the recycled breaths from inside a ship.

His steps were slow as he made his way down the metal door. Glimmer noticing his trepidation.

“Come on, you may be helping me right now, but I get it. Go as slow as you need, Tactus.”

His eyes watered, as he felt himself tearing up. Slowly sticking a foot out to touch the ground. His foot sinking into the sand below. Already growing cold as the heat from the sun was leaving it.

Catra stopped when she realized they weren’t directly behind her.

“Come on, are your asses filled with molasses or-” She turned around, seeing what was happening for the bird. After so many years locked up, he was finally experiencing a life outside the Citadel. For once, she decided to hold her tongue. If she was in the same situation as he was, she wasn’t sure that she would act any differently. Hell, she almost wanted to kiss the ground she walked on just from a few days of being up there.

“Easy now.” Glimmer coaxed him. Tactus starting to shake as he tried to stop himself from bursting out into tears. She wanted to hug him, but her leg was preventing that, opting for a one handed side-hug.

“I’m fine.” His translator loosed into the night air. The owl covering his face as he sobbed into his hand.

“I’m just…so happy.”

He looked back up into the night sky.

“It’s not my home at all…not the sights or even the ground…I don’t even know what I’m standing on right now but I can’t say there have been many days that I’ve found myself happier…” He says, feeling the odd grit of the ground underneath him. The sand clinging to him as he gazed up at the stars above. Finally spotting a single tiny purple glint what felt like a million miles away.

His home star of Raptoris.

“To feel such freedom.”

Alright, Catra had had enough.

“Yeah, a freedom that won’t last too long if we stay here. Prime’s fucking goons might be tracking our location right now. We need to move while we still have a chance and get out of here.”

“Catra, it’s night-time and we’ve been fighting for the past few hours. You sure moving’s a good idea?” Glimmer contested.

“If we wait till day, either we get captured in the night and potentially executed, or we have to move around while it’s blazing hot with me a cat with a decent coat. And him a big fluffy owl, with minimal water supplies. Do the math, Queenie.”

“It gets warmer?” Tactus chirped out in mild distress. He felt it was a little warm as it was, compared to his home planet. A world filled with dense canopy that blocked sunlight and tons of snow.

“Fuck.” Glimmer cursed, ultimately conceding.

“Well, lead the way then. Since you know so much about the desert.”

Offended at Glimmer’s semi-snide remark, and even now still being a tad defensive, Catra jeered back.

“OH, DAMN RIGHT I DO. I nearly became something of a ruler myself out here once, and once I’ve saved both of you two morons you, Glimmer can plant a kiss on my furry ass! You’re excluded Tactus cause honestly I don’t want that beak anywhere close to me.”

“Uh, thanks?” Tactus replied uncertain if that was an insult or not. But was glad to be out of the betting anyways.

Not one to be shown up, Glimmer unleashed some fire of her own.

“Oh yeah? Well when stumbling off into the dark ultimately backfires, you can plant a kiss on _MY_ fatass. You’re excluded Tactus, cause you’re too good for that and I know you’ll agree with me.” Glimmer triumphantly says. Tactus rubbing the back of his neck.

“Um. I agree with Catra. I really do not want to find out if this place gets hotter. Plus, I’ve got my visor and my amazing hearing. She’s got the nose and great hearing too. Night vision. I think we’ll be pretty safe.” He reasoned. But Glimmer was not always a person who wanted to listen to reason. She pouted at Catra’s smug grin.

“Sorry Gl-” Tactus began, but Glimmer cut him off yet again.

“Ok, now you’re BOTH gonna be kissing my ass when this is over with.” She almost crossed her arms, but was still hanging onto Tactus to support. The Owl wanting to laugh at the absurdity of it. But the oddly determined look Glimmer was giving Catra made him ever so slightly worried.

Catra however just laughed at the sight of the two.

“God, you two are funny. Remind me why I’m actually at least somewhat glad to have to haul you two across the desert. Now come on. I’m taking point.” She sassed, lifting the hatchet on her belt loop up and putting it up on her shoulders.

The Owl and the Monarch following closely behind.

* * *

Adora went through the armory. She hadn’t quite felt right using any of the previous weapons she had grabbed, and replacing her old sword felt wrong still. She had tried a spear, and a broadsword. But it just wasn’t the same.

She needed to grab something, and quick. She only had a few minutes left.

“Adora!” Bow shouts, poking his head in. Adora jumping in shock, nearly toppling over a suit of armor. Saving everything except the helmet which clattered to the ground. Awkwardly she kicked it under the table.

“HAHAH. You didn’t see that! So, it didn’t happen. Hah, what helmet? Right?” She stammered, making a quick pose to pretend like she was fine. Bow blinked, deciding not to bring it up. Looking around.

“Didja’ happen to see where I left those net arrows? Wanted to be sure I had a few on me.” 

“Oh yeah, sure. I happened to grab them for you since I know you always carry a few before a fight.” She held them out, Bow taking them gratefully.

“Thanks Adora,…and hey. You doing ok? I know the whole, not-She-Ra thing has been messing with you lately.”

“It’s…not just that. I guess I’m just out of practice. That’s all. Just…nothing feels right anymore! I was so used to how convenient that sword was and how great it was to be big and strong that I think I’ve forgotten what it’s like to just be me.”

Bow put his hand on Adora’s shoulder.

“Adora, She-Ra isn’t what made you fight. It never was. It helped you be physically capable, but the will to fight is something you’ve had since I’ve known you. You always wanted more, and to do more for others. Just because you can’t be She-Ra doesn’t mean you can’t do some good. You just need to find your groove in all this again.”

Adora sighed.

“You’re probably right Bow but…there’s so many options.” She faltered, waving a hand to all the weapons in the armory.

“Tell you what.” He says, stuffing his arrows in his quiver. Looking at all the weapons himself, all the swords. He wasn’t an expert on swords like he was his namesake. But he understood what made a good weapon, and a good soldier. He let his hand hover over a few options until he felt just right with one. Picking up a cutlass. Unsheathing it and looking it over.

It was sharp, folded well. Perfectly balanced. Not too heavy as to be difficult to carry, but not too light as to have no power behind a swing.

“This one. I’ve got a good feeling about this one for you.” He concluded, passing it to Adora. She took it in her hands and felt it herself. Finding it was in just as good of quality as what Bow had seen.

“How do you know this is the one?”

“Just a feeling. I can’t say I see anyone else holding that particular sword aside from you. Now come on. They’re waiting for us down at the Blood Arachnia…also since I’m here. Can I just say it’s REALLY weird that everything in the Frightzone is just kinda named like that?”

Adora snickered, sheathing the sword. Clipping it onto her waist.

“God, I know. It always confused me as a kid, since It always made me second guess whether we were the good guys or not. But knowing the stuff in that area just kinda was always like that makes me want to laugh now.” She laughed, following Bow out of the room and down the stairs.

Bow chucking with her.

“Hey Bow? Thanks.”

“No problem Adora. Now let’s go get Glimmer back!” he announces, leading the way to the Blood Arachnia.

* * *

Swiftwind burst through the doors of the War Room. He couldn’t believe he had overslept for one of the first meeting since Glimmer was gone. He had been busy the entire night before busting down stables and freeing all his brethren to go grab oats from the nearby fields while they could.

He loudly announced his entry, head held high in the air.

“Have no fear! Swiftwind is Here! No? Sorry working on that one. Slept in cause of…hero stuff.” He grins to the empty room. Looking all around as he realizes just how late he is.

“Ah horseapples…wait. It’s just me, alone in the war room. No children or dignitaries. Just one horse in a very echoey room, and no one to stop him from jumping on the table!”

The Alicorn leapt onto the war room table, his legs wobbling as he tried to find the right balance.

“I can let out my true emotions, uncensored!” He cried out, taking a deep breath.

“FU-WOAH” he was stopped mid-curse, his hooves causing him to slide off the table and land on his back.

“…Ow.”


	2. Side Effects

Within the Prime Citadel, was the man himself. Hours after the event that had rocked his entire station and led to the destruction of one of his dreadnoughts, he paced his throne room. A swathe of holographic screens surrounding him as he read readout after readout of his station.

27 percent. That was how much of the station had been damaged from the entire munitions and bomber bay exploding. The chain reaction had splintered the Citadel, 14 percent of that 27 percent was completely destroyed beyond recognition.

The droid maintenance facilities on the Citadel had almost been entirely damaged, losing nearly 72 percent of the onboard infantry-class drones.

Resources had been slim in recent years, and Prime had been putting so much effort into building up a machine army. Hoping he could phase out the weaker clones and resort to just keeping the most-pure of subjects. But this would not work anymore, and it was all those fucking rebel’s fault.

The news had broken to him about the state of the medbay’s potions store and medical supplies. With samples of their entire vaccine library completely gone. Not destroyed, _gone._ Raided, likely at the suggestion of that bird.

He had been useful before with his medical knowledge, though entirely useless in Phoenix Fire production, Prime had ensured he was kept around just incase any developments arose. Now he was regretting that decision. 6 years. 6 years that thing had wandered around here in captivity and in that time he had executed a plan to prey on all their weaknesses.

Even after the conquering of the Aviarians, such a frustrating fight. They still were fighting and giving him hell. He almost wanted to execute a few to get his anger out, but reproduction of that stock was low, with unsuccessful cloning attempts, and attempts to convince them to mate was generally a failure. He needed potion makers still, and had ordered a doubling of patrols on any ships with Aviarians present. No word was to get out that the Prince had escaped.

They were a plague to him, a pox even. He hadn’t felt such an overwhelming sense of dissatisfaction and failure in years, and the insult of such a thing hit some dark pit in what shriveled husk of a soul he had. He had long ago attempted nearly every practice possible to reel in his own emotions for perfect rational thought. But there was tiniest twinge of something that some may call anxiety or fear that lingered.

Just one Aviarian, a fucking field medic of all things was capable of throwing as hard of a wrench into his plans. Everything would need rewriting, months of work and resources he didn’t have. It irked him.

He was stressed, and needed amusement. Something to take his mind off this just for a moment so he could gain some clarity. He looked at the two closest guards, which always stood by his chair. He plopped himself down on his throne, reclining back.

“You two. I’m bored. Fight eachother to the death. Now.” He gave his hands a little clap, and as obediently as dogs they set upon eachother in the middle of the throne room. The clatter and sparking of their batons glittering and casting rays of light all over the marble floor. Punches thrown and the clack of their armor under their uniforms as one of them tackled the other to the floor. Prime sat back, not caring really who’d win. They all looked the same to him, and he quickly lost track of who was who. Even as they started to bite and claw at eachother.

“Whoever wins gets the honor of cleaning up the mess.” He sarcastically remarked, already seeing some blood being spilled, as one of the guards bit the ear off the other. Spitting it back into his face. A savage move, that Prime almost admired for its brutality. Good stock knew how to fight, and fight well they did. 

Shifting in his chair and looking off into the distance, not able to help himself as he checked the readouts again. Yes, a total readjustment of battle plans was necessary. Recall some of the ships to guard the lower levels and share power supply, pull some of the minifacturing depots installed on some of them back onto the Citadel just for long enough so they could rebuild.

Send the wordout to the ground forces that had already made contact on Etheria to pull back and act subtle. Go underground, work from the shadows a bit. Recon, sabotage. An aggressive front would be too foolhardy. What might’ve been a quick 4 months conquest was going to take far longer now. But Prime considered that maybe the most hard fought of battles would make the victory that much sweeter.

After some time to reevaluate the proper way to go about this new venture of course. 

A videocall suddenly came through on the hologram infront of Prime. One of his officers appearing. He bowed his head briefly before stating his purpose.

“Your excellency, I have news on the prisoner breakout.”

“Then report, officer.” Prime commanded.

“There was a survivor from the Medbay explosion, we’ve moved him into the new temporary wing. If the scans are correct, we think he’s clone C-100. The long-time guard for the Aviarian Prince.”

Prime’s eyes lit up. Now that was a number he remembered. A veteran with experience dealing with such menaces. Too soft for his taste, typically. But he was good enough at morale that he would’ve been able to save Prime the effort of having entire platoons culled.

Prime grinned in satisfaction, feeling as if an uncomfortable weight suddenly flew off his shoulders.

“See that he receives top priority of health care, a few upgrades here and there, and put in the paperwork to have his old rank reinstated.”

“Right Away, Your Excellency.”

“And the recovery team? Is the problem taken care of?”

“Being dealt with presently sir.” The Officer states, looking at his datapad.

“The Recovery Team said that they seem to have survived the crash but wandered off into the desert. The winds covered up their footprints, but we’ll find them. Sir.”

“Good.” Prime affirms, reclining in his chair and tapping the side of his face with a finger pensively. 

“Do remember what is at stake, Officer. I do not tolerate failure, or weakness in my ranks. Now begone and see that your work is done!”

“Yes, Your excellency.” The Officer gave Prime a salute. The Officer letting Prime hang up on him. He couldn’t quite remember which week it was and how Prime’s compulsions laid.

The Week before he would force his officers to hang up so he wouldn’t be arsed to lean forward and press it himself. But then Prime started to get fussy because he didn’t have any control over it and it switched back.

The orders of Prime were maddening at times, but he was the Prime and The Officer was but a clone.

Left to his own devices, the Officer went over his multiple missions and tasks. Just out of shot from the vidcall was the redistributed medbay for clones. Injured guards being helped solely for their info, rather than out of actual concern for their well-being. A barracks redistributed to the injured in the wake of the disaster. Other clones were forced out. They made sacrifices, as a clone is meant to do in service to their empire.

“How the fuck am I doing all this?” He muttered to himself in the dim flickering lights of his sector. So different from the bright lights of Prime’s throne room, standing on steel so different from his marble floors.

And yet both were caked in clone blood.

* * *

Under the moonlit sky of the Crimson Wastes, a trio trekked.

The Owl kept his head on a swivel, feeling anxious about the wide open spaces.

As much as he hated his cell, he at least knew what to expect there. The barrenness and ability to see so far in almost any direction made his stomach turn with worry. 

One of his most innate fears, as a bird, was the idea of someone watching him without him knowing. Owls were as high up on the food chain as it could get, but from experience he knew such status meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. Status and Power bred complacency, and it would take a single moment of error to be fatal.

For the sake of those around him, he couldn't let his guard down. He had to remain focused as his precise hearing practically mapped the area around him.

He could hear the wind whistling by and the gentle scraping as sand collided with rocks and dirt. He could hear that even the ground below them was mostly silent.

The Visor over his left eye wasn't detecting the heartbeats of anything too worrying now. 

He was not used to such tech, but the usefulness of covering the damaged socket and eye was notable on it's own. Effectively it was almost like a digital eyepatch, the glass and metal frame preventing any dust or sand from irritating his eye.

Already he was learning one of the greater limitations of the sensor on it.

The data it typically displayed was previously routed into the Horde database, but with minimal effort the connection was severed, but the data along with it. No longer capable of immediate access to medical files that had been recorded by the ship's biometrics.

A shame, but ultimately necessary to avoid being tracked. Then there was the heartbeat sensor, though accurate it did not seem to pick up smaller creatures without intentional adjustment of the scan parameters. It was sensitive and one sway too far on the scale and he was getting sensory overload from even the tiniest of creatures with the crudest semblance of a circulatory system.

Put simply, Tactus was working with not a whole lot, and he didn't understand the visor well enough to make the adjustments with the Doctor's Visor yet. 

"So, you say this, Bow is good with Tech?"

He asks Glimmer, who has slowly progressed from leaning on Tactus to using her father's staff as a walking stick in the few hours since they began walking.

"Oh yes! When Entrapta, the Mechanic Princess defected to the Horde, he really stepped up his game. He's brilliant and kind, I'd think you'd like him. He did a lot of our planning and tactics during our fight with Hordak."

"He wasn't THAT good." Catra contested, squinting back at them. 

Glimmer, felt protective as usual of Bow. He was who knows how far away, but she refused to let his good name be besmirched.

"He did great! Didn't resort to all your underhanded bullshit you did while serving under Hordak"

Catra scoffed.

"Ok fine, he was good for one of you namby-pamby princesses all soft. And for the record, by the end of that war, though rank may have implied otherwise. Trust me, that defective little shit Hordak was serving under me."

Tactus' beak clicked in anger. He had some understanding of what Catra had done before this. She knew she had been awful before, and even shown some remorse.

But this person who spoke so proudly of what they had done implied otherwise.

"Congratulations. You weren't just a horrible person, but a distinguished horrible person."

Catra hissed back at him.

"Fuck off Bird, I got blessed by your god or something. Clearly I'm doing something right." Catra taps the purple spot on her abdomen by her hip. The fur almost glowing in the dark.

Tactus felt anger rise in him as he stared at the mark. How dare she be so rude? But before his beak could click in anger, his hate subsided, and his eyes widened as he stared at the purple mark.

He had read about this occurring, but he had only dealt with this once before. Before he could stop her, or explain why there was no need to be angry. Glimmer, practically rabid, came to Tactus’ defense.

“Hey, the fuck Catra? Back off. I think Tactus, after the shit he’s gone through. Has a right to be a bit angry at your old life. And guess what? So, the fuck do I.”

Glimmer advances angrily over to Catra as she speaks.

“Leave it Glimmer.” Tactus suddenly says, extending a wing out to put a barrier between them. Pulling her back with a hand. Catra snorting rolling her eyes.

“Thanks for calling her off, Tweety.” She jeers.

Glimmer trying to get past Tactus, but not wanting to injure his wings. Right now, she really wanted to punch Catra in the face again.

“Just trust me Glimmer. Come here.”

He appealed, instinctively trying to move his beak close to whisper to her ear. Very quickly remembering he doesn’t talk to them through there, pulling Glimmer close to the translator on his makeshift necklace instead.

“Forgive her, Glimmer. She’s still riding the highs of Phoenix Fire. Look at her eyes.”

Glimmer, confused. Looked to Catra’s eyes. She hadn’t noticed it before but they were slightly bloodshot.

“Tends to make people aggressive afterwards, lowers inhibitions too. Give her the night. It’ll wear off.”

Glimmer grit her teeth, wincing as she felt the pain from the missing molars strike her again.

“Ow…fuck. It’s still not right.” She whispered back. She acknowledged that without Tactus there’s no way they would’ve been able to break out as soon as they did. Plus, he had generally been pretty-friendly and decent to the two of them.

“To be honest, I heard worse the last time someone took Phoenix Fire. I know you’re smart enough to know fighting isn’t the best thing to do right now.”

“Can’t I just punch her? Just once, really hard? Then she can sleep it off and be better tomorrow.”

Tactus almost laughed.

“Much as I’d love to see that, I’m tired from half-carrying you across this desert, and your legs still on the mend. Neither of us are capable of carrying her…” Tactus glanced back at Catra’s mark.

He didn’t mention it, but he had the sneaking suspicion that now a good punch wouldn’t do the trick anyways.

“Should we tell her what’s going on?”

“She’s not in the best mental state ri-”

“Is she ever?”

“You tell me. Cause we’re telling her once it wears off.”

Catra was tapping her foot. Just the sight of them chatting there like she wasn’t even there was pissing her off. The teeth in her mouth grew sharper, and she suddenly roared out.

“HEY. MIND LETTING ME IN ON THIS LITTLE CHIT-CHAT?”

She butted her head inbetween them. Her claws having grown sharp, and her hair frizzed with energy.

Tactus began to regret not having examined her first before Glimmer.

Glimmer coming in with the save.

“Oh, we were just…talking about how tired we are…long day and all. Night too…” Glimmer began to fake a yawn, which turned into a real one. She was tired anyways, and surely the sun was close to coming up in due time anyways. They needed to sleep at some point after all.

Tactus conferred.

“Yes! I am supposed to be nocturnal anyways…” He adds on, staring intensely at Catra’s suddenly sharpened teeth and claws. Noting that she apparently had dynamic physiology now. Likely another side-effect to the Phoenix Fire, though this was significantly rarer to see.

Catra sniffed in the night air. She could smell the desert dew as the sun’s rise became all the more eminent. Her features growing softer again. 

“Right. Best to get digging now while we still have some energy.” Her tail flicked around between her legs in a sudden burst of concentration, getting down on all fours and suddenly digging into the ground.

Glimmer and Tactus exchanged looks of bewilderment.

“Hey, Catra…uh…what are you doing?” Glimmer asks.

“Digging us a sleeping pit.” Catra said, as if the conclusion were so simple.

“Sleep during the day in a shaded camouflaged pit to escape the heat. Trek at night. How you survive the desert. Now can you two lazy fucks stop watching me and HELP?” She commanded. Tactus and Glimmer shrugged, the two of them getting on their knees and helping dig.

“You better put the work in too birdbrain. Like hell if I’m going to dig this fucking hole tall enough to fit your big ass, or one wide enough for you, queenie!” Catra taunted.

Anger boiled inside Glimmer, Tactus shot back a playful jeer at Catra before she could speak. Wanting to try to keep the peace here and appealing to Catra’s inner soldier nature to rib her comrades.

“Just so long as you don’t shit in our bed even though it looks an awful lot like a sandbox, feline.”

“Don’t tempt me now.” She cackled out.

Glimmer just shook her head, almost wanting to laugh. It looked so easy for him sometimes to just shrug off so much anger and vitriol coming his way. But considering where she had just pulled him out of, she supposed she shouldn’t be too surprised.

In only about 15 minutes, the three of them had sufficiently made a decent enough pit to sleep in. Catra going through the supplies and pulling out the reflective blanket. Placing it reflective side down over the top, using rocks to hold it in place and sufficiently camouflaging it with sand to prevent them from being seen by the naked eye, and definitely by anything flying overhead.

The very tired cat flopping on her side of the pit.

“Come on in, it’s super soft.” She sarcastically remarked. Trying to ignore the gritty feeling under her fur, even through the clothes. Starting to take off her coveralls so she wouldn’t sweat to death as they slept through the day.

Placing them in a pile with the extra leg room that was afforded to them by Tactus helping to dig to his height. Placing their survival gear down there too, but keeping her hatchet close. She paused, suddenly getting a terrible idea. Wrapping her coveralls around the weapon to make it softer. Using it as a makeshift pillow.

Glimmer sighed. Just the sight of the dusty sandy bed she’d be sleeping on made her decide to test her magic once more. Feeling a slight shift in her body but nothing more than that. It was strange, she still felt some of the magic she could use for combat in her fingertips, but none of her teleport capabilities.

It was like, not empty so much as it felt oddly blocked. It was hard to describe, but it was almost like feeling an intense need to burp but being totally incapable. It was a gross analogy, but Glimmer couldn’t quite place it otherwise in her mind.

So reluctantly, she crawled into the pit with Catra, peeling off some of her own clothes. She couldn’t imagine this was going to be pleasant, but surely it had to be better than sleeping in the direct sun at least.

Tactus, having never slept in a desert before or really visited any location with such extreme heat. Followed suit, but as he didn’t have a whole lot to adjust, he simply rolled his pant legs up.

They were already borderline shorts as it was. Seeing as they didn’t really stretch more than a few inches below his knee, but that was just how the clothes fit him. Now, he looked like he was just wearing a pair of booty shorts, and he felt plenty uncomfortable about that on its own.

Wanting to sleep rather than discuss or acknowledge it. Tactus flopped into the sleeping pit on the farthest right side. Taking his visor, blinking his almost healed but still sore left eye. Turning off and stuffing his visor in his pants pocket. Passing out almost immediately.

Leaving Glimmer once again in the middle between the two. She put her head down, closing her eyes. Her entire body felt like it was made from lead. Sore and heavy.

She had maybe slept for 15 minutes before a sandpapery tongue suddenly dashed across her face.

Her eyes shooting open, bloodshot and angry. Looking straight forward at the culprit. Catra sat there with a little funny grin on her face.

“Hey Sparkles~” she whispered mischievously.

Exhausted, Glimmer half-whispered half-screamed at her.

“Catra…I am very fucking tired right now, and I want to sleep.”

“Oh yeah? Well I just saw your cute face there infront of me and I couldn’t sleep. Was thinking about you too much.” Catra purred out. Her teeth sharpening.

Glimmer knew she was still not quite in her right mind, and likely delirious still from what Tactus described earlier.

“That’s very-nice Catra. But right now, all I’m thinking about is sleep.”

“Oh, don’t play so coy Sparkles. You couldn’t take your eyes off me when I wasn’t wearing anything not long ago, now here I am wearing nothing now.”

Glimmer snorted in disbelief, turning her head away blushing.

“Catra just sleep, you’re not…you right now.”

“Oh, I’m me alright.” Catra half-growled back. Scooting closer.

“Come on…right here…let’s just do it…now. I know you want me and I know I want you…”

Glimmer stammered, backing away from Catra.

“Catra…”

Catra giggled, getting closer and letting out an overly loud moan.

“Ok that’s it. I’m getting my own sleeping pit.” Tactus announces, finally getting up from his position on the ground and sitting up. He had heard enough and knew he didn’t want to be part of this.

Catra immediately ignoring what she had just done and pointed to Tactus.

“I GOTCHA FUCKER! I KNEW YOU WEREN’T ASLEEP.” She shouted triumphantly.

Glimmer left dumbstruck and confused. Mouth agape. She knew Catra had always been petty, but _THIS_ petty?

Glimmer slapped Catra on the back.

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe later.” Catra snickered, falling back in the pit and getting cozy as Tactus began to climb out.

“Really now?” Glimmer raised an eyebrow. Collecting her stuff.

“I’m going with Tactus.” She proudly articulates. Tactus barely sticking his head out for a few seconds before he stops. One foot out of the pit, rigid as a board. His head swiveling around like a machine. Scanning the horizon for the subtle noise he heard. It was a light droning noise, like something cutting through the air.

With his sharp eyes he could see something in the distance approaching closer over the horizon and through the clouds. His blood ran cold.

“DOWN.” He orders. Throwing himself back down into the pit and ontop of Glimmer and Catra. The sheet going over them. In a swift motion he threw sand back over the cover and hunkered low in the pit.

Glimmer was thankful that Tactus weighed almost nothing, otherwise him suddenly jumping ontop of her probably would’ve hurt a whole lot more.

She pulled her face out of his chest, spitting out feathers. Catra swiping at the bird with her claws. Barely missing him.

“THE FU-“ Catra pauses too as her ears catch it.

Glimmer, noticing their silence stops herself from screaming or getting angry. Listening too, as the engines of some ship droned overhead.

Tactus panted in fear.

He promised himself he wouldn’t ever feel fear over this again, but he supposed he was lying to himself then.

Here he was, hunkered down in a tiny pit with not a whole lot of air. In the growing heat of a strange land, once again fearful of the Horde. He didn’t want to go back; he couldn’t go back.

Not again. He’d rather die, but he knew an execution would be too kind for them do to him. No, not after what he had done. He’d probably live for a hundred more years, wingless in some even smaller metal cell. Fed through a tube after they would most likely shatter his beak or grind it down into nothing.

He looked at the close walls around him and his mind was drifting off. Feeling scared and alone as if he was already back there.

“Tactus.” Glimmer softly whispered to him, seeing that look on his face of pure fear.

His vision once again returned to his real location. Looking down at Glimmer below him and Catra to his left. Even she seemed concerned. Feeling awkward that she didn’t know what to do or say.

The droning noise fading away.

“I’m fine.” Tactus lied. Rolling back onto his side of the pit. Glimmer shaking her head.

“No, you’re sleeping in the middle this time.” She commands, pulling him over her and scooting to the far right where he had been.

“I…If you wish.”

“Trust me Tactus. Safest and most comfy place to sleep, and as your first night, er, _sleep_ , free I think you deserve to feel safe.” Glimmer coaxed, ruffling the feathers ontop of his head.

Catra rolled her eyes, almost wanting to gag on how sweet Glimmer was being. Trying to act aloof even though she almost kinda agreed.

“Great. Now this side of the pit’s going to get super-hot.” She complained. Turning her back to Tactus.

Tactus slowly got himself comfy again. Closing his eyes. Letting out a soft little hoot of contentment as he slept. Despite the way the sand would cling to his feathers, and being on the ground. It was easily the best sleep Tactus had in years. Not so much as a hair’s breadth of a nightmare or tossing and turning he’d normally feel. Just a long unbroken and restful sleep.

Glimmer and Catra quickly joining him in their slumber.

* * *

“Hey, wake up.” A voice called out to the woman, who jerked awake. Reaching for her cutlass instinctually, Bow placing a hand over hers to stop her.

“Uhp Uhp Uhp, no need for that Adora. Just wanted to let you know we’re almost there. Sleep well?”

“Uh, fine. No dreams I guess.” Adora mumbled, rubbing her head.

She looked towards the front. Where Scorpia was still somehow hanging on despite the 8 hour ride in this thing as a steadfast pilot. She was very tired, and had nearly fallen asleep a few times, but thankfully had the somehow constantly active Princess Entrapta to keep her busy with chatting.

“And how’s…how did they do zat?” She groggily questioned. Still interested in Entrapta’s story.

“Oh, it was ingenious! They had venom sacs which when they sprayed would react to the oxygen and catch fire! Making it seem like they breathed fire!”

Micah, who had taken a very brief powernap and awoken feeling refreshed about an hour ago, interjected.

“They tasted like the smell you’d imagine if someone lit soap on fire. Which compared to the taste of the other breeds of ants that existed there, made the ‘Fire Ants’ almost worth a hunt were it not for those big juicy caterpillars that tasted like fresh oranges. Overhunting those is probably my second biggest mistake after that time I let Mermista’s father Mercia borrow my favorite suit for his wedding.”

Scorpia bellowed a hearty laugh.

“Oh, hoh hoh easy there, your highness! Don’t make me laugh too hard or I might accidentally fly us straight into the ground.”

Bow leaned in, chipper as ever but a touch nervous at that possibility.

“Let’s not crash when we’re so close. ETA, Entrapta?”

“Emily?” Entrapta called, as a slot opened up on top of Emily. A datapad being shot out about an inch, Entrapta catching it in the air smoothly.

“Good girl! It didn’t shoot through the ceiling like the last few times!” She compliments. Checking the datapad.

“3 Minutes. We’re 3 minutes away.”

Adora looked out the window, the sun was climbing it’s way into the sky. The dawn of a new day, and in only a few minutes she’d know whether Glimmer was okay or not, and that terrified her. The anxiety of not knowing if she was ok.

Bow noticed Adora’s trepidation. Placing a hand on her shoulder.

“She’s fine. Adora.”

“Yeah. Yeah I know.” Adora muttered it out like a platitude. Agreeing just to put her mind at ease.

‘But what if she’s not?’ her thoughts echoed.

“Oh hey! I think I can see it!” Scorpia loudly announced, squinting her eyes as she saw some metal wreck in the distance as the Blood Arachnia Zoomed through the clouds.

The Entire crew got up and moved to the windows to look, staring down.

“Ooh. Pretty.” Scorpia commented, seeing a blue light glow near the wreck as the sun slowly began to illuminate the sands.

“A rescue flare?” Micah asked, but Adora didn’t buy it.

“Wait. Glimmer wouldn’t use a flare. She’d use her magic, heck she got pissed at me and Bow for carrying flashlights while she was around sometimes.”

The blue light suddenly intensified, a shockwave of noise rattling through the air. A massive ball of blue energy began to hurtle across the sky towards them from the center of the noise.

With only a half-second to react, but still very tired. Scorpia tried to pull the Blood Arachnia out of the way, but was too late.

The ball of energy collided with their ship. In an instant the entire Blood Arachnia’s power and flight system was dead. Sending the crew to the ground shrieking in terror as they collided against the sand.

At the source of the attack, a clone Lieutenant proudly patted his Heavy Artillery trooper on the back.

“Excellent shot. I reckon that may have been some of those princesses mentioned in the report.”

He held up a hand to signal to the rest of the Prime Recovery Team, all 8 of them.

“Alright men, you know the drill. Two snipers here giving us rear support. The rest of us, move in and take out any and all life forms. But try to leave the bodies intact. Prime wants his research. Now come on! Double time!”

He barks out, and with that the troop advanced forward with killing intent.


	3. Broken Arrow

Half-buried in the sand, the Blood Arachnia sat, barely 300 meters away from their intended location. Having coasted to a stop and bent nose down into the red dunes of the Crimson Wastes.

Like a metal sarcophagus, all was pitch black for its occupants. In the crash, they were struck dumb by the speeds which they had fallen and suddenly stopped.

A light glittered from the machine, Emily. Entrapta’s welding hood was down, and she scuttled around on her purple hair. Holding a glowstick around to check on her comrades.

“Rolecall! Which of you are still with me?”

Adora groaned as she raised her hand up in her chair.

“Present…just very sore.” She shakily got up, her legs feeling like they were going to buckle under her from the shock of falling.

Micah, who had been sitting next to Entrapta, had taken a brief sabbatical from the conversation to count his limbs and fingers.

“I still got all my parts, so I think I’m good.”

Bow was curled into a ball in his chair by Adora.

“Aside from throwing up in my mouth a little and really needing a breath mint. I’m ok!”

“That just leaves…” Entrapta waved her glowstick over to the pilot’s seat. Scorpia slumped over the wheel, face down on the dashboard. 

“Oh god, Scorpia.” Adora muttered.

“Is She…?” Bow questioned in worry. Micah stepped forward first, placing a hand on Scorpia’s shoulder. Slowly pushing her to sit upright in her seat.

As her face left the dashboard, the cabin was filled with the cacophonous sound of Scorpia snoring.

She drowsily pushed Micah’s hand away with a claw. Her head tilting back and snoring even louder, entirely passed out from the many hours of traveling to get here. Having totally fallen asleep during the fall and sudden plunge into darkness.

A sigh of relief washing over the occupants.

“Thank the stars.” Micah said with a soft smile.

“She’s just very _VERY_ tired. But no worse for wear.”

“We just got attacked.” Bow states.

“By someone who has advanced tech, and the capability to track that ship and know about it. Ergo-”

“Prime sent a team to eliminate the survivors.” Adora finishes, her eyes growing wide.

“With enough firepower to bring the Blood Arachnia down in one shot, very impressive.” Entrapta surmises, examining the electronics to find they were all still dead.

“Then we need to move. Now. Help me get her out of here.” Micah tried to get an arm under Scorpia. She was heavier than she looked, which was impressive since with her claws and size she looked pretty damned heavy on her own. Entrapta slipped her hair under Scorpia with ease, helping to lift her up before Adora even had a chance to offer assistance.

Emily scuttled underneath Scorpia and Entrapta carefully placed her ontop of the robot. She murmured and snored, mentioning something about someone named ‘Patchy’. The tuckered-out Princess was such a heavy sleeper she hadn’t even noticed that she had been placed on the cold body of the robot.

Adora, was the first one to truly recognize their situation.

“We’re already down a soldier and the fight’s barely begun. Quick, we need to come up with a plan and fast while our enemy advances. What do we know?”

“Long Range Weaponry.” Bow Chimed in.

“Anti-Tech Capabilities” Entrapta notes, gesturing to the entire shut down controls next to her.

“Er, No Magic?” Micah inferred. Seeing as he would’ve recognized any magic had he seen it.

“So that all means?” Adora ponders, trying to see if anyone else would catch on.

Entrapta clicking on first.

“OOH! They’re all carrying a ton of heavy equipment!”

Bow snapped his fingers.

“Low Mobility! But Heavy Firepower? So, then they’d likely try to set up a firing cone and batter us with weaponry, then try to draw us out? Right?”

“Exactly!” Adora claps her hands. She wasn’t the smartest in a lot of things, but battle strategy was one of the few things she knew better than anyone else.

“Entrapta, try to get this ship back online. Me and Micah will run distractions and draw fire, while Bow. You flank them and pick off their heavy hitters.”

“Got it.” Bow affirms, readying himself and holding his namesake at the ready.

Entrapta, who hadn’t been listening to Adora’s gameplan as she was already tearing open panels and crawling around trying to fix what she could, casually turned her head back toward them.

Her hood glinting the light from Emily off it as she spoke.

“Huh? Sure. Try not to die.” She shrugged, turning her attention back to the mess of wires and machinery that’d need a reboot and circuits that’d need rerouting away from non-essential systems.

“Hey is air circulation a yay or a nay on essentials?” Entrapta asks, unsure.

“I’d rank it pretty high.” Micah concernedly remarks.

Adora winced as she considered what would occur if their air circulation stopped entirely.

“Ditto.” She adds, holding her cutlass at the ready. By now however many there were out there were probably getting closer or would be ready for them by now. With the stakes as high as they were, to either recover the tech needed to win the war or potentially save Glimmer, her nerves needed to be steeled.

Failure was not an option.

* * *

Just outside, the Recovery team marched forward. The Lieutenant barking out orders as they advanced. Their boots barely gripping the sand below them as they moved with their heavy equipment forward at a slow but steady pace.

The Blood Arachnia was nose down in the sand, with the side door being the only exit in or out of the ship.

“Heavy, I want a kill zone with an 120 degree firing cone on the left side from the doors on that thing. Riflemans I-912 and I-934 with him. Grenadiers E-208 and E-102 with me. I’m going to see if I can coax them to open that door and the moment they do, send a volley in. Set to Concuss. Don’t worry about your backs. Marksman SN-021 and SN-024 have us covered.”

He ordered. Confident in his planning.

“Yes Sir!” The clones obediently answered.

The Grenadiers kneeling down beside the Lieutenant, adjusting the setting on one of their grenades. A signal being sent out to the rest of the smart grenades on their person as to what settings to use.

The Riflemen followed alongside the Heavy Artilleryman. As he marched, he changed his weapon’s mode flawlessly.

It was a convertible styled weapon, either to be used as an over the shoulder cannon or a plasma gatling.

He flipped the beast over, moving the massive iron sights to the underside to act as a tripod for weapon. The Barrel extended outwards and flipped around. Going from one massive crystalline exterior beam emitter to a series of smaller beam emitters.

In function, such a design changed it’s capabilities from firing one massive beam passing through 8 concentrated barrels into one powerful burst of energy, into a continuous stream of energy firing from the 8 barrels on the gatling.

The skill needed to do such a change required strength and precision, as well as the brains to keep his weapon maintained. Which the Heavy Artilleryman took great pride in. Being capable of doing so while moving, unlike the majority of his cohorts. Even taking great care not to let sand be trapped inside as he did. He was one of the best, and he took great pride in his service.

Oddly enough, not to Prime or even to their cause, but rather to his fellow brother. Prime sat cozy and rarely if ever actually took part in the fights. Yet he, often was what stood between his brother’s in the field and annihilation. He held the line, even amongst hordes and legions of these savages, and he alone would repel them back.

Firing and endless slew out of the end of his instrument of death. Knowing that for each one he brought down was one less that could stand to harm his brothers.

Personally, he thought this plan was awful. _He_ should be front and center and simply mow them down. It didn’t matter who they were, if they were a potential threat they should be wiped out. None of this keeping them alive for studying crap. Once they’d win after beating this entire planet into submission they’d have all the test subjects they’d ever need anyways.

All this showy stuff a lot of these big guys at the top felt made no sense to him, but he was a heavy artilleryman and not one of the planners or Prime himself after all.

The Lieutenant readied his pistol, the grenadiers at his sides. As they held their grenades at the ready, they couldn’t help but not feel safe with this plan either. With the heavy not being front and center, getting anywhere close to the potential line of sight for these strangers wasn’t going to be fun. Info had already climbed up the chain about the strange energy this place seemed to have from previous teams’ experience.

Word of some of their ships plucked out of the sky by watery hands. Killer plants swallowing up an entire platoon. A clone being frozen solid, face contorted in terror.

Whatever these beings were of this world, it terrified the grenadiers. Such power, and all they had was tech and numbers.

Not only that, but they didn’t exactly have the strongest support as it was. SN-021 and SN-024 were remarkably well known for not being the best marksmen Prime had to offer. The only reason they had stayed this long in rotation of Recovery teams and Recon, was their extraordinary capabilities to somehow avoid death despite all odds.

Their unique blend of survivability and expendability had been noted, with Prime having an odd tendency to place them awfully close to the front lines solely for information gathering. Even should an entire platoon be razed by enemy combatants through use of chemical weapons, biological, and at least on one occasion a particularly impressive trap involving radiation from a series of modified microwaves in a room. Like cockroaches, they somehow survived and came crawling back.

It was by far the most impressive thing about them, as by all other accounts they were exceptionally average. As they camped out 200 meters away from the crash site, on a short ridge overlooking it all.

“Man, look at that view!” SN-024 doted in his raspy voice. Vocal chords damaged from a chemical attack years before.

He took in the sights of the entire desert from his spot, looking through the binoculars he had. Staring at the intricate beauty of the mesas and the rock formations.

SN-021 ripped the binoculars out of his hands.

“You’re supposed to be spotting, Numbnuts!”

“I am spotting! Look, there’s a Mesa, And over there’s some fucking sand!”

“No! You’re supposed to be spotting for hostiles ya jackass!”

SN-024 rolled his eyes.

“There’s nothing out here, it’s a desert. And we haven’t even engaged them yet. So take that stick out of your ass before you step funny and turn yourself into a scarecrow.”

“If you’re not going to spot, then you take the rifle. I’m not getting yelled at by Prime again.” SN-021 passes the rifle off to SN-024.

“Come on, Prime Loves Us!” SN-024 insisted, but still took the rifle. Looking through the scope as SN-021 spotted through binoculars so they could triangulate a shot.

“Only because I was able to get him a sample of the poison from the plant thing that flowery bitch sicced on us the other day. Fuck my leg still itches.” SN-021 scratched his ankle with the heel of his boot.

“Relax…The best part about getting moved to Marksmen duty is you’re _away_ from all the action, and occasionally take some potshots and head back to the barracks and pretend like you did some work!”

“I guess you’re right…say where’s your Visor?”

SN-024 scoffed.

“They haven’t issued out a new one to me yet. You’d think they’d give Prime’s favorite scouts a little leeway on property damage, when it comes to breaking some toys.”

“To be fair, you did break the last one by throwing it at a carnivorous plant.”

“Yeah, to save you, Dummy. I was out of ammo and I couldn’t find my knife! Gotta use what you can.”

“Wait…Shush. I think he’s starting.” SN-021 peered through his binoculars carefully at the Lieutenant. Watching as he stood tall.

The Lieutenant was new in his position, and as many weak individuals find themselves thrust into power, felt the need to flex his muscles. Mimicking the actions of others without fully understanding the why as he announced to the crew inside the ship.

“This area is under lockdown by the authority of Horde Prime. Your new Sole Ruler to Etheria. Come out with your hands up and weapons down, so that we may discuss on amicable terms!” He proclaime, making the hand motion for his grenadiers to get ready despite his speech.

There was silence, but slowly the doors on the ship creaked open. Sliding across. 

“NOW.” The Lieutenant screeched.

The Grenadiers in sync shouting

“CONCUSS OUT!” and chucking their grenades forward.

A blast of magical energy extended from the tip of Micah’s staff. Aimed at the ground. Sending up a cloud of sand to cover their motions.

The force of the blast sending the Grenades rolling back towards the trio at the front. The Lieutenant, spinning on his heels and darting away.

The poor grenadiers becoming a chain reaction point as the multiple concussion grenades went off in succession. What would have normally been non-fatal had been too overwhelming for the grenadiers as the both of them were practically launched into the air, blown to bits like fireworks.

The Lieutenant’s ears were ringing as he had still been too close to the blast.

The Plasma Gatling and the riflemen hailed fire down towards the direction of the dust. The flaming plasma turned the sand that had been cast up into tiny shards of glass as it whizzed by.

Adora and Micah darted forward. Covering their mouths and squinting their eyes as they did. Bow leapt ontop of the ship. Expertly firing a taser arrow at the Lieutenant on the ground. Nailing him in the arm just as he reached out for the gun which had fallen out of his grip. His entire body seizing from the volts entering him.

Unfocused on their targets. The Riflemen aimed at Bow while the Heavy Artilleryman kept the rain aimed at the Sorcerer and the Blonde. Adora charged forward, not caring whether she was hit or not. By some grace of luck, the plasma gatling practically seemed to avoid hitting her. The shots nearly making an outline around her body, save for a single shot grazing the top of her head and shearing off her ponytail.

Her hair falling into her face briefly.

Micah fired another blast of magic across the sand to dislodge the heavy weapon’s tripod. Causing it to clatter and break as Adora advanced forward, cutlass drawn.

The Heavy Artilleryman wasn’t going to go down without a fight. Gun-less or not.

The Sniper and Spotter pair’s reflexes were never the strongest, in awe of what had occurred in the span of only a few seconds. They were just now getting a grip on the situation.

The Lieutenant, recovering from his electrocution, reached for his Pistol. Micah turned his attention away from Adora, seeing the impending threat, rushed the Lieutenant before he could get to the gun. His hands rapidly moving to cast a spell.

“SHOOT SHOOT SHOOT” SN-021 hollered in fear as SN-024 stressfully shook.

He had seen plenty, but he had never seen a plan go FUBAR so quick.

“THAT DOESN’T HELP.”

Bow fired an explosive arrow down at the Riflemen’s feet.

Catching the both of them in the small explosion and knocking them to the ground. Two net arrows slung down in quick succession trapping them with their rifles at an impossible to fire position.

Being massively off target as the nets forced their arms to the ground.

“42 DEGREES SOUTH, WIND 3.4 MPH. GET PRETTY BOY.” SN-021 directed, spotting Bow’s maneuvers in the distance as he expertly took out the riflemen.

SN-024 took aim, taking a deep breath as he quickly did math to hit center mass. If his math was right, he’d hit him dead in the center of that stupid little heart symbol on his chest.

The Heavy Artilleryman picked up his broken gun, swinging it like a club at Adora.

Adora instinctively lifted her arm up to deflect it. She was She-Ra, she could take this.

But upon seeing her own normal and less-buff-than-usual arm, she remembered just how fragile she really was. Jumping back and only barely being nicked by it.

It’d leave one helluva nasty bruise, but she’d live. With that swing she now had a clear opening at the Heavy Artilleryman. Plunging her cutlass into his chest.

Going through one of his lungs. Adora was sure he was down for the count, bleed out in minutes. Least that’s what she thought.

The Heavy Artilleryman gripped the cutlass, pulling it so that it’d plunge deeper into his body. Adora didn’t understand it at first, but quickly discovered why. He let the blade pierce him so that he’d get her in his reach. His massive hands came around Adora’s throat like iron.

This close to the clone, it was like watching her worst nightmare. The face she had feared her entire childhood was contorted into fury as she felt the air forced out of her. She pulled back her sword and kept trying to saw her way through the clone but he didn’t even seem to notice.

“For…my brothers…” He choked out, blood pouring from his lips as his hands curled so tightly around Adora’s neck she almost thought he’d break her neck. Wondering where the rest of her team was.

Micah was busy with the lieutenant. Casting a fire whip and catching his hand before he could reach his pistol.

“ADORA.” Bow shouts, turning with his bow, another arrow notched in and aimed.

The Arrow whistled through the air, as a green bolt of plasma arced its way across the sky.

The Arrow met its mark. One of the few normal arrows in Bow’s Arsenal as it went through the Heavy Artilleryman’s eye. Killing him instantly, he slumped down to the ground.

Bow’s scream filled the night air, and despite barely being able to breathe, Adora felt her hands grip the Heavy Artilleryman’s dead fingers with titanic strength. Snapping them like twigs after hearing Bow’s cry of distress.

Micah had seen the green shot’s path through the air. He slammed his foot down hard on the Lieutenant’s head. Breaking his nose and leaving him face down in the sand as he aimed a magical blast in that direction.

“I can’t believe you fucking missed!” SN-021 shrieked in horror.

“What are you talking about? I got him!” SN-024 defended. Unaware of the fireball that was rapidly approaching until it had already hit. Setting the two ablaze.

Instinctually they recoiled and rolled down the sandbank. Extinguishing themselves almost as immediately.

With one glance at their now melted sniper rifle, SN-024 shakes his head.

“Fuck this. Flee Today, Fight Tomorrow!” He declares, grabbing his gear and running off into the distance. SN-021 running alongside him.

“I’M COMING TOO!” He effused. The two trying to put as much space between them and the site of the battle.

“BOW!” Adora hollered. Climbing ontop of the Blood Arachnia.

Bow was kneeling, hunched over himself. His golden bow was split in too, melted down the middle. Right at the handhold.

In a half-sob Bow’s voice came out in a soft whimper.

“I-I’m h-hit.”

“Let me see, Bow.” Adora coaxed, having a very bad feeling as she pulled off her belt.

Bow slowly turned around. He was lucky in that it hadn’t hit him dead on or he’d have a massive melted hole going clean through him. Even his bow had thankfully taken the brunt of the damage. But still, his hand was a mess.

The skin melted and charred. The fingers limp, with bone protruding from the palm where the melted gold had seared and caused some of it to slough off. The gray bones underneath red and raw. The fact his hand was hanging on at all was a miracle.

Filled with Adrenaline. Bow looked up at Adora in horror.

“It doesn’t even hurt that much…”

Adora felt sick. But she knew what she had to do. She wasn’t familiar with a ton of field medicine, but this was one of the few things she knew, as she held the belt in her hands.

“How bad is it?” Micah called out, having left the lieutenant knocked out.

Entrapta peeked her head out of the Blood Arachnia. She had heard the screams, and saw fit to investigate. Scorpia right behind her, eyes wide as she had been woken up by the noise of the battle.

“Is Bow Ok?” Entrapta asks, coming out on her hair.

“We need some help!” Adora’s voice quavered. Motioning for the rest of them to join her uptop.

“Healing magic! Medical supplies! Anything!” Adora demanded, Bow panting and gritting his teeth in pain. Tears streaming down his face, and blood dripping from the wound.

“It hurts Adora.”

Adora was frantic, wrapping her belt around Bow’s arm to try to make a tourniquet. She wasn’t even sure if this was the right thing to do, but with how damaged this thing looked he’d likely start bleeding out in minutes if the burns weren’t cauterized as well as they were.

“I KNOW.” She shrieks. The other 3 seeing the severity of the situation. Scorpia poked her head up for a moment, immediately dropping back down as she saw how bad it was.

“I’ll get the first aid kit!”

Entrapta, seeing the same thing but knowing without her lab there wasn’t a whole lot she could do dove back down with Scorpia.

“UH, I’LL HELP GET THE FIRST AID.”

Micah was up in a millisecond, already prepping some healing magic.

“You’ll be fine Bow.” He tried to reassure. But it was a fairly nasty burn, and he never had specialized in this type of magic. He had taken his fair share of burns, sure. But healing like this just wasn’t what he did.

A circular rune appeared between Micah’s hands. He stretched his hands forward, the rune washing over Bow’s damaged hand.

Bow suddenly broke out into tears and he squirmed.

“STOP. STOP. PLEASE!” He cried out. Micah backing off in concern and Adora holding onto Bow Tightly as he goes limp. Passing out from shock.

“Bow hang on! Micah, what was that?”

Micah looked at Bow’s hand. It had regrown some flesh and healed some of the worse off sections, no longer having any bone exposed. But with it he assumed some of the nerves had regrown.

It must’ve been agony for Bow, and Micah was terrified. The pain from that alone could kill him if he went any farther.

“I’m sorry. I never…” Micah shook his head slowly in shame.

Adora looked down at Bow and the messy tourniquet she had put on.

“I understand.”

She slowly grabbed Bow around his shoulders.

“Come on, we need to get him down.” 

Micah gingerly grabbed Bow’s legs, just as Scorpia was coming out with the first aid kit.

“Found it.” She states. Entrapta just behind her, her hood down. Unable to look at Bow without it for fear of the things her face would show.

Scorpia set the first aid kit down on the floor of the Blood Arachnia. Making way as Micah and Adora carried Bow in.

She was exhausted, but far be it from her to just keep on sleeping when she could help.

Seeing Bow in this condition broke something inside her, it was the feeling of uselessness and guilt instilled in her from her days in the Horde. Anytime she didn’t do her best, or help a friend when she could and something happened to them, it always felt like another weight on her chest.

With just a glance at Adora’s face she could see that same feeling of guilt on her face that she knew so well. She used to hate Adora, with how much Catra had talked about her. But with the devotion she could see on Adora’s face, and the feelings she knew she felt. Scorpia felt a strange bond to her, that she couldn’t quite place.

“I got this.” Scorpia volunteered, as they set Bow down.

“Scorpia…” Adora began.

“I know what you’re thinking. ‘Scorpia, aren’t you tired?’”

Scorpia popped open the first aid kit.

“‘Scorpia, can you even help with those big fumbly pincers?’ Well I’ll have you know.”

She stretched out a roll of bandages and gauze.

“The answers is, yes and yes. I may be tired, but I still know a thing or two about taking care of injuries!” She proudly huffed. Applying some burn and antibiotic cream from the first aid kit onto the burns with the tip of a cotton swab. Dressing the wound expertly.

“I may not have hands, but you all rest assured that if I did. Bow is in the best he can find. So, you all don’t worry about him. Just do what you came here for.” Scorpia reassured. Micah, and Adora staring in total shock at how well she handled the situation. Despite looking about as tired and dead inside as one could look after being awake for so long.

Adora had felt the cold glares Scorpia had been giving her since she had joined. Though everyone else had claimed she was apparently remarkably nice, she was never on the receiving end of it. She blamed it on the oddly sour and defensive way she acted when they had fought around Catra. Presumably, some odd sense of jealousy for the time they had spent together.

But, at that moment. Adora felt more respect for Scorpia then she thought she could muster. She took charge and was an overall trooper. Maybe it was simply because they had both served in the Horde once. She displayed all the qualities that makes one a favorable soldier, and perhaps that was the odd attachment she felt welling in herself for this woman. Some psychological signals that told her she was a good person to keep around, and keep close.

“Thank you Scorpia.” Adora appreciatively nods. Scorpia giving a quick salute.

“Anytime.”

Micah turned to Entrapta.

“Any progress on the ship?”

She looked down meekly.

“No. Ships’ been badly damaged. Even if I scrapped Emily, I wouldn’t have the parts to repair it. But…If I retrofit from the shipwreck we came here for, I might be able to get at least one of them running.”

“Good enough. Adora, with me.” Micah commands, stepping out of the Blood Arachnia.

Adora glances at Bow’s bandaged hand. Scorpia holding him up. She waves her off with a claw.

“Go. I got him.”

Reluctantly, Adora leaves with Micah. Feeling worse with each step. She didn’t like leaving Bow, even if that look in Scorpia’s eye was so reassuring.

Micah wanted to say something encouraging, but the mission required other things to be done first. He began a furious march towards’ the downed Lieutenant and kicked him over onto his back.

His body was limp, half-open. He had suffocated while knocked out and face down in the sand. The blue blood streaming out of his nose having exacerbated his incapacity to breathe.

“Didn’t expect to get much out of them anyways.” He scoffed, heading for the two riflemen still strapped under Bow’s Nets. Practically baking in the hot sun underneath the metal fibers.

One was already growing delirious, but the other tried to aim his rifle at Micah. Struggling to even move his wrist enough for his rifle to point at anything but the ground.

His aim blocked by the butt digging into the sand, Micah rushes forward and kicks the rifle out of his reach.

“THIS IS IT! THIS IS THE END” The delirious clone wailed, struggling under his binds.

“Shut it, 912!”

“I DIDN’T WANT TO BE A SOLDIER! I WANTED TO BE AN ENGINEER!” He continued to bawl.

Micah pointed his staff at the two of them. Waving it back and forth to alternate aim, but intentionally lingering over the one that was already breaking.

“Mission Purpose. Now.”

“DON’T YOU FUCKING TELL HIM.” I-934 heatedly protested.

Adora stepped forth with her sword, leveling it with I-934’s eyes.

“Ordinarily, I would be disgusted to stab someone helpless as you are. But my friend may just lose a hand now. So, you better tell us what we want to know. Because I think we are being VERY _FUCKING_ KIND right now.”

“OH, PRIME OH, PRIME! I’M SORRY!” I-912 blubbered.

“Don’t you fucking dare! Even if they kill us, we’ll gladly die for our cause!” I-934 proudly avowed.

“Your friend doesn’t seem to agree.” Micah steps over I-912.

The sobbing clone covered his face, as snot ran down his chin.

“I’m sorry…please I don’t want to die…Prime will kill me if I tell.”

“He’ll have to get to you first. One clone running off into the desert, not something I see him kicking up a whole lot of fuss over. So, talk.” Micah reasoned.

“Don’t!” I-934 pleaded again with I-912.

“We came down to track and neutralize the escapees. Collect bodies for dissection so we could find out more about them.”

Micah looked around.

“I don’t see any bodybags, or storage. Safe to say you didn’t find any bodies?”

“No sir!” I-912 chirped out.

“And the escapees?”

“Three of them a-” In an instant the clone’s throat was torn out. I-934 had stuck his hand through the rope and tore I-912’s trachea out with his bare hands.

“TRAITOR!” He bellowed. Adora’s cutlass plunging into I-934’s head and killing him. Just a moment too slow.

“NO!” Micah howled, bending down to I-912. So close.

“Was she with them? Glimmer? Was _she_ with them?”

I-912 choked as his blood spurt out and drenched the sands. Staring up in total shock.

“Please.” Micah reached out, holding the clone’s hand as he started to fade.

In his final act, he looked at Micah and gave a small nod. His movements slowing as his blood left him. Finally passing.

Micah felt the strongest twinge of hope he could ask for. Adora, who had been suppressing the doubts she had, finally could breathe easily. Although she had been too slow to save the clone, they at least had gotten what they had all wanted to hear. Glimmer had survived.

“She’s alive.” She beamed, running a hand through her hair. Only just noticing her ponytail had been completely severed from the fight before. The tie flying off and her hair drooping down at about jaw height, the only thing hanging particularly long were two little locks of hair by each sideburn.

Micah stood up, looking at the many corpses that had been left. With one tap of his staff the sands swallowed the corpses whole.

“Not much of a burial service, but it’s more than they deserve. Entrapta!” He calls, the Scientist coming out ontop of Emily.

“You rang?”

“We’re heading to the crash site now to investigate. We’ll need your tech expertise.”

“You betcha!” Entrapta exclaimed, chipper as ever. Emily marching forward alongside them as they treaded towards the crash.

Adora took one last glance at the Blood Arachnia, her thoughts on Bow’s recovery. It was hard, but the mission was to both grab the friend or foe codes, and see if they could rescue Glimmer. With both in the realm of possibility, it would be more insulting to Bow’s sacrifice to stop now.

But if he’d ever be able to be an archer again with that hand the way it was, worried her.

Oh gods, what would she tell George and Lance if their little boy got hurt on her watch?

“He’ll be fine, ya know.” Micah says, seeing the concern on Adora’s face.

“…But will he be?” Adora protested, not able to take her mind off it.

“I…sure! I mean…Entrapta was telling me earlier about her work on prosthetic limbs for Hordak. I’m sure the science can’t be that different, and even if that doesn’t work there’s always the sorcerers at Mystacor.”

“And he has Scorpia right now.” Entrapta chimed in.

“She’s really good with this type of stuff, I remember. Well, mostly remember. This time I got a concussion from one of my experiments going wrong. She nursed me back to health and even made me tiny soups just the way I like them. She knows what she’s doing.”

“I guess I should relax…it’s just all so…visceral lately.” Adora describes, shivering at the sight of Bow’s hand as mangled as it was.

“It does feel different, more…violent since Prime showed up.” Entrapta concurs.

“I don’t ever remember the battlefield being quite so…dire before. I thought this was just how things had changed since I’ve been gone. Is it really so new?” Micah asks.

“I just feel like since we lost She-Ra, our good luck’s gone too.”

“Don’t talk like that.” Micah objected.

“I nearly died back there, just…forgot I wasn’t She-Ra and Bow got hit because of me.”

“We’re fighting a whole new enemy. You couldn’t have known this’d happen. You just need to adapt like everyone else.”

“But I-“

“Stop. Not another word like that about yourself.” Micah insisted. Glaring at Adora.

“You’re a good person, and were strong enough to lead us out of a place I’d been stuck in for nearly 20 years. If you were She-Ra, then She-Ra was you. Maybe you don’t have all the force still, but it’s not all about the power. Its about the will too. If you’re willing to see this through, but I just know you will.”

Adora’s face turned red.

“Yeah, you’re one of the most determined people I know! Granted I don’t get out much.” Entrapta added.

“Thanks. I needed that.” Adora sighs, rubbing the back of her head. Uncomfortably reminded of the way her hair had been clipped by the plasma blast.

Finally, they had arrived at the long awaited site of the crash. Micah noted the sand trail still left behind the ship.

“They were able to pull up before they landed. Slowed their descent. Survivable even?”

“It’s a beauty though, isn’t it?” Entrapta commented.

“Photonic thrusters, 100mm cannon…No surface imperfections on the metal either. The precision needed to make this thing is unbelievable.”

She rode Emily and parked her outside the Bomber. Stepping off and looking all around excitedly.

“So much tech!” She nearly squealed. Micah and Adora following her in.

It was such a small thing, and just looking at it’s tight quarters she felt an empathetic sense of fear. To ride in something so small out of all that commotion and come hurtling to the ground so fast.

“Oh wow! An entire intact launcher with plenty of ammo still left over!” Entrapta fawned over the weaponry.

“Aren’t you a beauty? I bet you put out at least 30 kilotons of force per shot…”

Adora tried to ignore her. Looking at the door that had been seemingly sawed open with something strong. Spotting a tiny tuft of fur on the floor. Orange fur.

Her heart skipped a beat.

She hadn’t heard from Catra since this all started. No way. That’d explain the way how she was able to break out. For better or worse, Glimmer had help of all things, from _CATRA_ of all people.

Awful as Catra had been, she expected her to sell Glimmer out first chance she got. But then again, Catra was never big on authority to begin with.

Micah slowly picked up a pink hair that had stuck into a back panel against the wall. Sniffing the air and detecting the scent of something strong and magical. It was, unnatural to him. But there were traces of something dark on the floor. Waving his hand over it he could sense strong magic.

“Potions? Strong ones too…off the charts…” He squinted at the stains.

“She was here, injured but was assisted it seems. By someone or something with…insane potion capabilities.” He concluded. For him to be able to feel this strength even from the smallest stain, whatever was capable of making this might’ve even rivaled his old teacher’s capability in alchemy and potioncraft.

“Maybe it was that raptor thing.” Entrapta casually added.

“The what.” Adora’s eyes widened.

“Whatever left that big footprint you all stepped over. I thought you just hadn’t commented on it yet.” Entrapta says, barely pulling herself away from the electronics and coming back to the door. Pointing at a massive taloned footprint. Only barely visible, but perfect in it’s capturing.

“Looks like whatever this thing was it stepped in some oil and left a decent imprint here. But it’s not anywhere else, maybe he was carrying something. It’s a left footprint. Doesn’t match any other creature known to Etheria. I know, I’ve studied plenty. Some type of Raptor, a lizard maybe by the claws? Long and curved.”

Adora couldn’t believe she had missed it. Let alone stepped over it, but maybe it was her subconscious brain that made her do it.

It was such a massive and obvious clue, and probably one of the more helpful.

“Catra, and Glimmer were in that crash along with something else. If we can’t find them, directly…”

“Then we at least have another lead.” Micah puts it together.

“Find the Raptor…” Entrapta begins.

“Find Catra and Glimmer.” Adora finished, breathing a sigh of relief.

They were almost there.

So close, and yet so far.


	4. Love and War

Catra snored peacefully as the day passed her by. Feeling awful hungry as she neared awakening, but she was so cozy she didn't want to get up.

She rubbed her cheek on the soft pillow beneath her. Purring the whole while. It shifted, but she instinctually held it closer to her.

It was so soft, like resting her head on a cloud. Or maybe a bed of feathers.

Wait.

WAIT.

Catra's purring stopped, her eyes shooting open. 

In the dark she could see her head resting on something brown and feathery. Light tinges of purple mixed in with the feathers. Her mouth went slack as she turned her head. 

She could hear him suck in wind in a wince, their eyes meeting.

His face contorted into a look of discomfort.

Catra's eye twitched. 

Before Tactus could speak, Catra held a finger to her lips, opting to speak with her hands so as not to wake Glimmer.

Not out of respect, just simply to have as few witnesses as possible.

She pointed to Tactus, made a hand flapping motion with her hands, then pointed to Glimmer. Ending her charade by drawing a line across her throat to mimic slitting a neck.

The message was clear.

'If you tell Glimmer or anyone else about this, I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU'.

Tactus shrugged incredulously. As if to say

'Believe me. I didn't enjoy that either.'

Catra ripped the cloth off the top, jumping out of the sleeping pit.

It felt like she had been tossed into a shallow grave, her eyes meeting the heavens above and the endless space.

This time the lights were real, and having not quite grown accustomed to such beautiful stars. She felt they were like eyes looking down upon her judging her.

Night was falling over the desert as the sun descended in the distance.

Catra glanced down at Glimmer who slept on. Wanting to wake her up to show her the sunset but felt she had likely needed the sleep.

She blinked her eyes groggily, Tactus sitting up and standing beside Catra as she looked at the stars.

“We need to talk.”

Catra snorted, looking Tactus up and down.

“What the fuck do _we_ have to talk about? Aren’t we all just surviving and trying to get out of here?”

“It’s about your attitude lately. There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Oh, fuck off. I’m home. Bound to act a little differently, no longer need to suck up and play nice with the two of you so much.” Catra deflected.

“Sure, as hell ain’t one fucking potion I took that rattled my head like you two think.”

Tactus’ beak tensed. Catra scoffing.

“What’s wrong birdbrain? Realized you aren’t as subtle as you think you are? Guess what. You preach all this talk, but even you need to learn some fucking humility every once in awhile.”

Tactus’ face curled into a snarl.

“Do not speak to me about humility. I’ve suffered enough years being fairly well humiliated. I just wanted to inform you that I was going to forgive you for acting like such a fool the other day. Phoenix Fire does all sorts of stuff to the brain and I was willing to excuse it all.”

“Fuck you. I don’t need your excuse or for you to be the ‘bigger person’ and forgive me. I’m doing just fine on my own.”

She crossed her arms. Tactus took a deep breath to calm himself.

“…I want to inform you that there are long term effects to having taken so much Phoenix Fire at once. You swallowed an entire vial, yes?”

“Yeah, but I’m fine now. And I don’t need to hear a lecture from some fucking noble about being a better person. I already got my validation from that owl god or whatever. I’m not sorry I drank all of it. I was on the verge of death, and your shit medicine sure as hell didn’t help.”

His beak clicked. But his voice remained calm.

“Catra. I would’ve given you some of the vial myself had I known we had any. What I had on hand wouldn’t have worked to save you. You were already very far gone and did something incredibly noble for us. Ok? I’m not mad. Really, I’m not.”

Tactus lied. He was downright furious. Not specifically at her, though she certainly wasn’t making things easy. To wear that mark, and for the things she’d done. He felt a surge of envy wash over him, feeling that it was his birthright to have destroyed the Horde as she had done.

But Envy had no place in war. He had to push such feelings away, and should simply be thankful that such an act occurred at all.

“I don’t believe you.” Catra muttered.

“You’re lying.”

Tactus blinked, looking away.

“Ok, I am lying. But does it matter? I want to keep working with you because, quite frankly you are an anomaly Catra. Marks like that one on your hip just don’t happen with Phoenix Fire. Not this long at least. So, I really must insist. I need to examine you for your health.”

Catra turned her back to him.

“I’m fine.”

Tactus rubbed his face with a hand. Finally exploding at her.

“No, Catra. You aren’t fine. You FUCKING died yesterday. You were telling me your last will and goddamned testament, fully ready to go. Then you took more of Phoenix Fire then anyone has in the history of Aviarian potion making, and LIVED. Then your brain chemistry was so fucked, along with your body shifting irregularly last night. You are very much _not_ fine.”

Tactus placed a hand on Catra’s shoulder, feeling her tense up but quickly relax.

“Not Physically, and after the emotional whiplash you have received, almost certainly not mentally. So please, as your friend and medic. Let. Me. Help. You. Because as much as you thinking that hiding this makes you a stronger person, it doesn’t. You need help, because if you are not functional you not only put yourself at further risk, but us at further risk. And dammit, I cannot allow this to stand. So, Catra. You. Need. HELP.”

Catra was speechless. She wanted to be angry, to curse him out and push him away. But those tactics hadn’t worked in the past with what she has gone through. Self-Destructive as she was, she wanted to run headlong down that same path as she was want to do.

But this little spot on her hip terrified her. That same spot that just yesterday one could see clear through her body. She had died once, and was told to come back solely because that being had said she could’ve done better. Maybe this was one of those things she was supposed to do better with.

‘Friend and Medic’, even with her bullshit? Tactus was a fucking trip for her everytime he spoke.

“Ok.” She answered back casually.

The Owl was admittedly shocked, but wasn’t going to waste this opportunity.

“Thank you, Catra.”

She sighed, her face curling into a small smile.

“I gotta hand it to you Tactus. I don’t change my mind often, but you got me.”

A slow clap echoed through the air. The both of them turning their heads to the source of the noise.

Glimmer, sitting up and slow clapping.

“That was impressive.” She applauds. Catra rolling her eyes.

“How long have you been up Sparkles?”

“Woke up around the part where you were talking about ‘Owl God Validation’. Don’t mind me, just admiring at Tactus’ negotiation work there. Plus, always love a good catfight…even if one of them is a bird.”

Tactus grabbed the tarp, on the floor. Pulling it so that it’d cover Glimmer’s head.

“Oy! Patient confidentiality. Go back to sleep.”

Catra chuckled, as Glimmer pouted and pretended to fall back to sleep.

“Thanks, Doc.”

Tactus narrowed his eyes.

“Now, how many times do I have to tell you I’m not technically a Doctor? I never achieved that rank back home.”

“Yeah? Well here, pretty sure you’d be considered a Doctor, even if Doctors on your world are something absolutely mythical or some shit.”

Tactus plucked his visor out from his pocket, slipping It back on and flicking on the switch.

“Well, if it makes things easier in conversation. Feel free I suppose, I’m still learning this language as it is. Now first things first.”

Tactus got down on his knees. Catra awkwardly looking away from him. She never liked physicals like this unless she at least had a feminine doctor. Any guy too close to her at any time pissed her off.

“I’m going to examine the purple marking you have first. Let me know if you feel any discomfort.”

“Now.” Catra immediately spoke up.

“Really?” Tactus asks, concerned. He hadn’t even begun.

“Nah, just fucking with you. It is a little itchy I guess.”

“Hmm.”

Tactus slowly inched his talons forward. Lightly prodding and looking at the miscolored area. The fur did feel oddly a little different. Rougher, thicker strands. The purple coloration perplexed him, and it felt warmer.

He wondered briefly if that implied there was some type of infection. But the skin underneath seemed fine. No discolorations of skin, just fur. Aside from that, it seemed to be a perfect heal.

“Any liver pain? That much magic all at once might cause some aches.”

“No. Just, sore from sleeping. Bit thirsty…Say what was that about being an ‘anomaly’ earlier?”

“Hand.” Tactus requested as he stood up. Catra producing the body part in question. He took hers in his and looked closely at the nails. Noting that they seemed to be the same as they were before. But he hadn’t noticed they were almost fully retractable. Lightly prodding them to force the nail to show more before letting them rest.

“You have shown a remarkable tolerance to a great deal of many magics and pain. I’m impressed. Are all of you so resilient?”

“I uh…I was shocked a lot by my...By this old witch named Shadow Weaver. She used magic to torment me a ton, and I just had to take it most days. Couldn’t fight back.”

Tactus paused, feeling his hand reach up to his neck where his collar had been. Rubbing it in mutual discomfort at the memory of so many shocks.

“I…I understand. To fight something like that for so long is sure to leave an impression on someone. In your case, and please don’t interpret this as any more than what I say. But that may have happened to work out in your favor.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Tactus swallowed hard, making eye contact with Catra so she could understand what he means.

“Simply that fighting tyrants when you’re young prepares you for fighting them when you’re older too. Even if one would prefer never needing to fight at all. I’m sorry that you had to go through that. But your will is your own now. You are who you are."

Catra felt a rush of deja-vu. The Barn Owl she had seen, and her words.

“God, you just sounded exactly like her.”

“Who?”

“That…thing when I drank the potion. She was…massive and had these white feathers.”

The color seemed to drain from Tactus face.

“Did she have these bluish marks on her face, three dots down the center. Purple eyes, pearl colored beak?”

Catra glanced at Tactus and she nearly felt her heart stop as she could see that face again. It had only been for a split-second, but that face had been etched into her memory. The eyes just like Tactus’.

“I…yes.”

Tactus half-smiled, almost laughing even. He looked almost drunk, stopping to rub his face.

“Good ol’ Talia. Must’ve been one of the last vials of the stuff she ever made.” He continued to smile, checking Catra’s heart rate. All seemed normal, but he wasn’t able to do much in the way of blood tests right now.

“Last thing. Flash me your teeth.”

Catra hesitantly opened her mouth. Tactus slowly grabbed her jaw and tilted her back and forth as he got a look. They were sharp, sure, but not much sharper than he had seen before. Finally letting go.

“I’m not sure what to say. I don’t see anything immediately jumping out to me, maybe some odd genetics at the fur on your little patch. But minor mutations are normal when it comes to rapid healing, especially on that level. All the other chemicals in play too. Hmm.”

Tactus paused, Catra licked her teeth to resalivate them. Still feeling awfully thirsty.

“Clean bill of health aside from that?”

“Well…There’s a lot I can’t test right now. Given a full lab I’d be able to figure out everything. Just, keep an eye on your mark and let me know if anything strange happens. Teeth larger than usual, misplaced aggression, large claws, sudden pyrokinesis or just overly fast healing. Oh yes, and watch out for any swelling, pale stool, nausea. Easy bruising. That last few things especially…”

He took a glance towards where her liver should be. Concerned about potential liver failure.

“Aside from that, we keep you well fed and watered and you seem fairly healthy. But, if you feel any… er, uncomfortable feelings be sure to let us know.” Tactus reassured. Catra rolling her eyes. He didn’t have to dote so much like some sort of mother hen. 

“Can I come out yet?” Glimmer shouts, from under the tarp.

Tactus sighs, shaking his head.

“That’s an affirmative, Queen Glimmer.”

“Good.” She remarks, tossing it off.

“Cause even though it was cooler than the rest of the desert during the day, it was still really fuckin’ hot!” She exclaims, practically having sweat through what clothes she had been wearing.

“Gee, I wonder why.” Catra looks annoyedly at Tactus, who crossed his arms.

“Was born fluffy. Give me a break.”

Catra crawls back into the pit, looking for the gear they had.

“Everyone, come on. Let’s do inventory and saddle up.”

“Right.” Glimmer confirms, getting her clothes back on and helping to pack away the tarp. Dusting it off.

Tactus double checks the vaccines and the potion material samples. Everything was in order, and the containers persistently were incredible at maintaining the samples without compromise.

Still had plenty of healing materials for the trek.

Glimmer cracked her knuckles and joints. Working her hand down her leg to check her ankle. It was good as new, just as Tactus had promised. She let her tongue move around in her mouth and she felt where she had lost some teeth at. Two whole molars, and yet the pain was gone and the spots where they had gone weren’t even bleeding or even that open anymore.

She ran her tongue over the spot again. Odd, something didn’t feel right. When she understood why, she shrieked in shock.

“OH MY GOD MY MOLARS ARE GROWING BACK!”

Tactus popped his head up from his inventorying, smiling wide in surprise.

“Oh wow, already? I wasn’t sure if those would repair with the Bone Restoration potion.”

Glimmer blinked at him in total astonishment.

“TACTUS TEETH DON’T NORMALLY GROW BACK.”

Catra was on the verge of crying laughing. Stopping her own packing and sitting on the edge of the pit. She had to see how this would play out.

“Really? That seems like a terrible thing. Not even with healing potions usually?”

“Tactus. I have never heard of a healing potion that can just regrow my fucking TEETH. This is insane!”

“Really? I wouldn’t imagine they’d be much harder then growing back a limb.” He casually shrugged, searching back through his pack. Glimmer’s face going pale.

“Tactus…TACTUS. You can’t just say that and not explain. What do you MEAN ‘not harder than growing back a limb’?!?”

Tactus stared at Glimmer. Narrowing his eyes.

“Ok. I get it. Make fun of the foreign guy, and pretend like there’s a huge language barrier. Look, I spent a lot of time learning how to speak this language. I think I speak it pretty well and I think I was pretty clear.”

Catra howled with laughter. Pulling out one of the ration canteens and crossing her legs as she drank some. It wasn’t popcorn, but it’d do the trick here.

Glimmer ran her hands down her face in exasperation.

“Tactus, I’m just trying to say that…we need to adapt to…that level of potion making. It’s not common here, ok!”

Tactus blinked, trying to comprehend it. It was difficult, as it was so commonplace back home.

Cuts? It’d take seconds.

Broken Bones? A day.

Hearing Loss? Potion to each ear twice a day for two weeks.

Loss of an entire limb? Take about a month to recover and with some therapy and routine potions you’d be good as new and back in the fight. 

That was one of their key advantages when fighting the Horde back in the day. Without that…

Tactus’s face washed over with growing unease.

“Oh.” Was all he could say. The nature of just how much help these people would need finally settling in his mind.

Catra disappointedly sealed up her ration container. She was expecting more from this, but it was still entertaining enough.

“You all hungry? Better eat now while there’s still ration packs left. Only really enough for us to last a whole day, maybe two if we eat light.” She mutters, looking down at the other two canisters of food.

“What flavors we got?” Glimmer sarcastically inquired, knowing not to expect much when it came to horde food from Adora’s stories.

“Well, Queenie. We have gray, and uhhhhh fuckin’ also gray.”

Tactus chuckled, dusting himself off.

“Darn, my favorite was the light gray. Normal gray just tastes too much like nothing and not enough like the pleasant and unique taste of stale air.”

Catra snickered, opening up her canteen again and tilting it to Glimmer.

“Hey, could you spit in this, hopefully it’d make it taste a little sweeter.”

Glimmer rolled her eyes, grabbing one for herself.

“Stop being gross.” She muttered, twisting the cap off hers and drinking it.

Tasteless as she imagined. Very watery, with odd slick chunks in it. It wasn’t quite smooth enough to be a drink, nor chunky enough to be a soup. It was supposed to not only be a meal replacement ration, but also hydrating as well.

Yet, it felt like it did neither properly. Glimmer’s nose scrunched up as it settled. An odd chalky aftertaste made it all the worse.

“Come on, I spit in yours. You spit in mine. Everyone wins!” Catra continued to jeer.

“After that, I’m almost tempted.” Glimmer grimaced back down at her ‘meal’.

Tactus choked on his rations. Coughing and pointing his finger at Catra.

“As the highest-ranking person here…”

“Which you are not.” Catra’s eyes narrowed.

“As highest ranking on topics of _health and safety_. I feel it necessary to advise you both to _not_ do that.”

Catra’s eyes rolled and she reclined back.

“Whatever, Doc.”

“Tactus, no offense.” Glimmer began.

“But the meals were better when you were the one cooking them.”

She says, almost longing for whatever meal would’ve been prepped on Prime’s ship.

Tactus, remembering that the last piece of normal food he had eaten in years was the pie he had baked, agreed wholeheartedly.

“None taken. Though I can’t wait to have meat again after so long on supplements and meal replacements.”

“Fuck you.” Catra tilted her canister at Tactus.

“Don’t you make me hungry right now. We’re still at least another night’s walk to the nearest village. I want meat too…god I could go for another one of those steaks right now…FUCK.” Catra gripped her ears in annoyance.

“OH, TACTUS YOU BASTARD.”

Tactus hooted with laughter, falling over and into the sand pit.

Glimmer quickly stepping into the trap too.

“I would kill for some cake or a sundae right around now…shit…” Her stomach grumbled, as she looked back to her unpleasant rations.

Catra pointed a finger at Glimmer.

“NUH-UH SPARKLES! You stop it too! I don’t want to hear any more talk about food.”

Tactus continued to hoot erratically through his laughing fit at the two of them. Catra pulling out her hatchet.

“I swear Tactus, if you don’t stop laughing right now, we’re deep frying your ass!”

“Oh hoo hoo…laugh a little. Humility, right?” He protested through hoots, wiping a tear away from his eye as he got back up and shook off the sand. 

Glimmer rested her head on one hand and leaned forward, placing her elbow on her knee.

“Hey, I got an idea. Why don’t we just head to that closest village _now_ so we can get some real food, then see if we can trade something for a ride back to Brightmoon, or at least out of the Crimson Wastes?”

“Give me a second, I’m debating whether I want one of Tactus’ wings or one of his big fuckin’ thighs…” Catra jested, stepping over Tactus with the axe. The Owl continuing to laugh and kicked her back at the hips.

“Hoo…off ya fuckin’ psycho!”

She lands on her rump at the edge of the pit. Glimmer shaking her head. They had a very weird sense of humor to be able to laugh while she was threatening him, but Glimmer was thankful they were even capable of laughing right now. Considering all the horrors of that escape.

“Queen Glimmer, if I may offer for consideration. Felidae is a delicacy on my homeworld!” He waved his hand at Catra like one would do whilst advertising a used car.

Glimmer’s stomach grumbled and she took another unpleasant gulp from her rations.

“Shut up, or I’m considering eating both of you.”

Tactus glanced at Catra, making eye contact before making a quick cock of his head to Glimmer. The Feline’s eyes lighting up with mischief as she understood what he was saying.

He moved his taloned foot over to Glimmer, inching towards where her ankles were, specifically picking the one she hadn’t injured the day before just to be safe.

“Doubt you could take us both at once.” Tactus asserts, grabbing Glimmer’s leg and pulling her down. Catra pouncing on Glimmer as she yelped in surprise.

“NOOOO! YOU ASSHOLES!” She half-laughed, and tried to shove them away. Trying desperately not to spill her food as she held it above her head. Tactus dragging her back into the pit and Catra restraining her arms. Tactus holding down her legs. Catra sitting on Glimmer’s stomach as Tactus flailed around with each of her kicks.

“HOLD HER DOWN!” Tactus cackled out. Glimmer twisting her hips to try to shake Catra off.

“NOOO!” She screamed out, crying with laughter as she did.

“Come on Sparkles, let’s get a little taste~.” Catra purred out, sticking her tongue out and inching closer to Glimmer.

For a brief moment, Glimmer considered just leaning forward and kissing Catra then and there. But, never one to like feeling defeated or on the bottom, she struggled. Finally shifting her weight enough to flip them over.

Catra was slammed onto the floor, Glimmer landing on her knees just above her. Leaning down and licking her first. Glimmer suddenly spitting after.

“Glad we didn’t pick to eat you, cause you taste terrible.” She teased. Catra’s heart thumping in her chest, feeling a slight adrenaline rush through her body. But she was suddenly terrified as she felt her teeth grow. Keeping her mouth shut tightly in fear. 

Tactus however, had suddenly found himself between a pair of legs. Very thankful he was an owl or his neck would’ve been completely broken by Glimmer’s maneuver.

“OWL IN DISTRESS” he cried out, trying to pull his head out from the odd pile he found himself in. Being very careful not to hurt the two of them with his very sharp beak, but keeping his eyes tightly shut for modesty purposes. No matter how much his heart raced.

Glimmer suddenly turned tomato red when she realized where Tactus was. Her moment of victory washing away like footsteps on a shoreline, as she quickly hopped off the two of them.

She had them right where she wanted them, but HERE? Now? No. It just wasn’t right. She was under a lot of stress, emotions were always high, and no matter how right it felt it just couldn’t be. Not now at least. They both were too vulnerable right now, it wouldn’t be right. She argued with herself. Tactus coming fresh off a 6-7 year stint in Prime’s prison, and Catra having literally come back from the dead. Everyone was kind of a disaster right now.

‘Damn my bi-heart’ she thought in her own pit of internal conflict.

There’d be a time and place, maybe, but it wasn’t here. A time when she could feel more sure about all this and less guilty. Preferably in a real bed.

Tactus sat up, rubbing his neck and Catra continued to remain on the ground in shock. Staring back up at Glimmer in the silence.

She cleared her throat. Turning around so as not to face them, for fear she’d break.

“We should uh…probably make way for that town, before we lose all our…nightlight…no. Doesn’t have the same ring as sunlight.” Glimmer babbled, trying to take her mind off it as she gathered the last of the things.

“Uh..Yeah..” Catra agrees half-heartedly. Rubbing Glimmer’s saliva off her cheek. It was so sudden and over so quick she hadn’t even had a chance to process it. Her teeth feeling normal again.

Tactus cracked his neck, adjusting the feathers on his face and smoothening them out to be facing the right direction again.

“Good. Faster we get out of this desert the better.” He mutters, already pushing what just happened out of his mind as he did to most things that he didn’t have time to deal with. All those thoughts would come later once he had finally taken care of the future of Etheria’s medicine.

“Then we’d better be off. You know the way Catra, so you take the lead.” Glimmer motioned for her to move forward. Catra stepping out of the pit.

“Sure…” She listlessly moved forward as the butterflies in her stomach felt like they were turning to worms.She didn’t dare look at Glimmer now. Not that she needed too, she could see her in her head, frozen in time as she was just a moment ago. Annoyed as she remembered the words Tactus had told her before.

‘How the hell can you expect me to be open about my feelings when I’m sure to just speak them would be to let my own heart pass over my lips?’

She suddenly shuddered in discomfort.

‘Great, now that stupid bird’s got me acting all poetic now too.’

* * *

The night waned on in relative silence as they trekked across the desert. Catra guiding ahead based on what she knew. She had been through an area like this before with Scorpia on foot. Hot days in the summer sun, practically a lifetime ago.

She recognized the rock formations, and the droning of Horde Ships and flybys had oddly stopped. Likely returning back to the Citadel to help with repairs, and make up for the massive loss of a dreadnought ship.

“So, you said this town was some kinda…scrapyard?” Glimmer asks, hoping that if she knew more about the place it’d somehow make it feel closer.

“Not exactly.” Catra contested.

“It’s more of a scavenger post. Lot of old tech out here, ancient ships, occasional lost Horde troupe. The Etherian ones, I mean. Little village called ‘Blister’. Maybe about 500 people max? One of the few places you could almost call civilized were it not 110 during the day and filled with a bunch of scavvers looking to make their next big score.”

“And, you’ve been here before?” Tactus queried.

“Well, not for long. Mostly recon about a year or so ago, sent some troops to occupy it and filter through salvage for any first ones tech. People weren’t too happy cause we kinda lifted it off their hands if it was, but aside from that relationship was generally complicated. Some folks loved us, some hated us.”

Tactus let out a scornful breath of air escape him.

“Gee, who could ever suspect that occupying a town against their will would make you a little disliked.”

Glimmer raised a brow.

“Wait, _loved_ you? I thought everyone in the Crimson Wastes hated the Horde.”

“Yeah, Huntara sure loved to make it seem that way didn’t she? But guess what? While you princesses were always focused on your own, I had some soldiers out here getting rid of the raiders and thugs that’d prey on the scavengers we relied on. We made it safer out here, and if a little ‘independence’ of some criminals is worth that, then so be it. The Crimson Wastes has a power vacuum, left unchecked anyone could just wander in and become a gang lord. Hell, I did it in a little under 8 hours once.” Catra argued. Not fully sure why she did.

She didn’t like the Horde, and she knew they were awful. She always knew. Still, she had an odd respect for the people that lived out here. The freedoms they enjoyed. Able to choose their own way of life regardless of what their past may have been, and after abandoning that gang lord lifestyle she could’ve had, there had been plenty of nights she thought about her decisions. Almost as many nights she regretted it.

But cognitive dissonance is a very strong feeling. She had to justify why she made her decision to stay with the Horde in the past. Some things she had clung to during that time to make her feel better. If she didn’t tell herself it wasn’t all bad, she couldn’t live with herself at all.

“What? You can’t be serious!” Glimmer shot back.

“We were always ‘focused on our own’ because the Horde wouldn’t give us the time of day to focus on anything else! With the numbers and tech the Horde had, you all could’ve done so much more without needing to exploit them. If the Rebellion’s army was anywhere close to the Horde’s in numbers we could’ve changed the world, but no. You all had to fight us at every turn, and if we didn’t have to fight you all off the Crimson Wastes could’ve been fixed decades ago!”

Catra shrugged, she wasn’t going to argue this.

“Maybe. But for us it was a tactical decision to make any alliances we could to gain more favor. Most Horde kids are taken at a young age, but supposedly a few of the settlers wanted to volunteer themselves, and even their kids too. Another 15-17 years and we would’ve had some of those kids on the frontlines.”

Tactus’ blood boiled, and he wondered yet again why he ever gave Catra chances to become a better person. Even though one part of him wanted to admire the strategy, fighting for the Horde didn’t sit well for him. Even if this Horde branch was just a pale imitation of the real Horde.

He reasoned that at least they didn’t raze the town to the ground, so they were at least somewhat better. But the imperialist occupations bothered him regardless.

“And what of the children you did take? Where are they now?”

Tactus beseeched furiously.

Catra hesitated, taking an uncomfortably long time to answer.

“We um, didn’t take any. Our advance was very aggressive at the time and we didn’t have the resources to raise a whole new generation before we finished conquering Etheria. Once we were settled we’d…figure things out from there I guess.” Catra shrugged. She honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead, and truth be told expected to be dead before they won.

Tactus still wasn’t happy, but the less indoctrination the better. Taking kids before they were born. His eyes settled on Catra, and he turned to Glimmer wordlessly to confirm if what he suspected was true.

Glimmer nodded. From what she had heard from Adora, Catra had never met her real parents either. Tactus’ anger subsided somewhat with her. Almost able to forgive her. Wondering if had he been imprisoned when he was a little younger, would he be any different?

He’d like to say he wouldn’t be, but that might’ve just been hopeful thinking.

Glimmer hated all of this, and wanted things to be different. A world where they all could’ve pooled their resources together and have done something. The thought of anyone going to the Horde so willingly bugged her. But as she watched the way Catra walked, so determined and fierce. Like, a brick house on the verge of caving in.

She was held up only by what little she had to cling to. Casting off too much weight as she needed just to remain standing. All these pieces that Glimmer had picked up on, from chatting with Adora and what she had seen. It all built up to the people who ended up like this. Listless, but trying so hard to eke out some meaning in the hand they had been dealt in life.

Catra glanced back and saw the mournful faces on the Glimmer and Tactus’ face. She could feel them thinking about her.

“Growing up to be a child soldier isn’t great. I acknowledge that, especially for this stupid fucking war. But at least they would’ve had clean food and water. Out here even that’s not a guarantee. It’s something. I didn’t…I didn’t care about it before but…” Catra continued, swallowing hard.

“I just wanted to win. Take pride in my accomplishments and I just want to feel like as terrible as I was…I wasn’t an entirely bad person, was I? I did awful things, not for the right reasons either. But…”

She scratched her head, noting the silence of her two companions. Neither of them were exactly jumping to say anything to the contrary or to support her. Deciding it might be best just to shut up now and keep her thoughts to herself.

“Cactus” Glimmer suddenly said, Catra and Tactus both whipping their heads around.

Catra was dragged out of her depressive episode by sheer absurdity.

“Wait. Did you just try to say both our names at once and fuck up really hard?” Catra asks, a confused but playful smile already on her face.

“No, Cactuses!” Glimmer pointed in the far off distance. Tactus narrowing his eyes and just barely saw what she was talking about.

“ _Cacti_. But yes, she’s right! Cacti!” Glimmer playfully slugged Tactus’ shoulder for feeling the need to correct her.

“You know what I meant.”

Catra blinked in the darkness, amazed that between the Owl, the Cat with Night Vision, and the fucking sparkle princess. The Sparkle Princess was the one to spot it.

“Wait. Cactuses means water…”

“ _Cacti_ ” Tactus corrected once again. He had spent too long learning this language to not at least see it be used properly, out of his own sense of bitterness for its absurd grammatical structure and contradictory at times nature.

Glimmer, this time gave Tactus two slugs on the arm.

“Quit being a nerd.”

Tactus shedding a dramatic little tear.

“Why must I suffer for my success?” He bemoaned as Catra dashed towards the Cacti in the distance with delight.

Glimmer reflexively tried to teleport ahead, being reminded yet again that she couldn’t still. But her new wings could easily do the job.

“Race ya.” She teased Tactus, giving him a playful smack on his rear. He practically catapulted upwards in shock. His wings flapping in the air, healed from the injuries the nights before. Glimmer taking off alongside him and zooming forward through the air.

The massive Owlman flew in place, blushing through his feathers in embarrassment. Quickly souring as he found himself well with determination.

“Oh, you’re on.” He grinned in competitive excitement. Gliding forward and keeping remarkable pace with Glimmer’s flying.

The winged pair quickly catching up to Catra who was sprinting across the sands.

“Oh, fuck ya’ll!” She shouted up at them, as she darted forward on all fours.

“THIS ISN’T FAIR!” she cursed, Glimmer giggling as she soared.

“No, but it’s fun!” 

Tactus gliding in overhead.

“I can’t believe you just did that to me!” He shouted at Glimmer. Glimmer barely able to keep flying through suppressed chortles.

“Payback for earlier! Besides, you’re so stiff all the time. Figured you could do with some loosening up!”

Tactus hooted amusedly.

“Do I now? I oughta loosen _you_ up! But first!” Tactus swooped down over Catra.

“Catra, with me!” He picked her up in his feet gingerly, pulling her up and carrying her under her arms as he flew. It was difficult with his smaller than usual wings. Catra initially wiggling and squirming but quickly being thankful she didn’t have to keep running to catch up.

“GAH FUCK!” She screamed out, the feeling of suddenly flying made her heart race.

“Why’d you pick me up?” Catra hissed, Tactus already formulating a plan.

“Needed the extra weight to beat Glimmer in a race.”

Wanting to show her up for earlier, Catra was already onboard with this plan, flashing a grin.

“HEY!” Glimmer shouted over at them, flying closer with her little wings.

“An alliance? That’s not fair!”

“All’s fair in Love and War, Queenie!” Catra retorted.

“Catra. Arms Spread Eagle, Legs straight!” Tactus ordered. Catra immediately positioning her body into the necessary T-pose. Tactus wrapping his arms around her torso and grabbing her legs in his lower taloned feet.

The T-Frame working perfectly alongside his wings for a proper glide.

“Now lean with me!” He shouts, leaning forwards as they cut through the air, aimed in the direction of the cacti patch.

Catra was amazed, she felt as if she was the one flying through all this. Her heart racing as she saw the ground zip by below her. The wind on her fur cooling her as they seemed to move so fast.

Yet, Glimmer was easily able to outmaneuver and fly past them. Tactus had too much wind resistance with Catra included, so she couldn’t understand at all what he was planning.

“CATRA LOOSEN UP. ARMS AT SIDES.” Tactus suddenly ordered, feeling a touch of magic welling up in him as his mind raced. He had never tried this before but ever since he had gotten these new powers, he had been wanting to try this out.

Catra did as she was told, loosening up her entire body and letting her arms drift to her sides.

“Get ready! We’re about do what I calling a Phoenix Drop!” He beamed as a purple hue radiated from his wings and legs.

“A what.” Glimmer confusedly asks, almost in sync Catra’s eyes widened and she too asked, with a bit more frantic urgency.

“A WHAT?!?”

Tactus tucked in forward, forcing Catra to ball up with him as he flipped in the air, aimed straight downwards, just next to the cacti. Using the drag of his fall to slow his descent, before rapidly forcing it to accelerate as his wing shields appeared and his clawed feet crystalized.

Catra yowled as they barreled to the ground. Tactus wings wrapped around them both as they shot downwards like a missile.

Landing in the sand with a shock. The sand caving and practically cratering around them.

Surprisingly, neither of them were hurt, and Tactus’ wing shield dissipated seconds after they hit the ground. Catra’s entire body was shaking and the moment Tactus let go of her she fell to her wobbly feet. Like one typically would do after riding a rollercoaster.

Tactus stepping back and feeling his own legs wobble, as despite the magical boost he had received from the shielding, that maneuver would very clearly need some getting used to. Nearly dropping to his knees.

“Ow…” He muttered through a grin as Glimmer descended beside them like a normal person.

Catra, although shooken up, slowly turned to Glimmer and pointed a triumphant finger.

“In your face!”

Glimmer, grinned at the two of them, who looked no worse for wear aside from being a tad jolted from the landing.

“Yep, you two sure beat me.”

She giggled, waltzing around them and carefully plucking a prickly pear from off a cactus. Somehow having avoided all the spines in the darkness and began to pluck them off slowly with her fingers.

“You good?” Tactus inquired to Catra, who was still hunched over on her shaky legs.

“Yeah. Fine. Just gonna try to walk that off.” Catra says, already starting to walk.

“Go help Glimmer pick the cactus fruits. Watch the spines.” Catra coughed roughly, stumbling awkwardly away like she was wearing pants that were a little too tight.

Tactus was mildly concerned for her health, but then remembered she likely didn’t have the same fluids a bird does to prevent such dizziness. Writing it off as typical non-aviarian behavior.

Going off to assist Glimmer in plucking spines from Prickly Pears with his precise claws.

* * *

Catra wandered around the peculiar cactus patch in the desert, trying to regain her bearings. But just on the wind she caught an odd musty smell that didn’t quite fit the rest of the desert smells. Concerned, she followed that scent trail, and in the dark she spotted an odd red figure on the ground.

As she neared it, she was fully able to discern what it was.

A mummified corpse dried out by the desert winds, and bones picked clean by scavengers. But the oddest thing about it was it’s apparel. A big red duster vest, which seemed to be made of some weird leathery material. It was old and worn, but shockingly not that damaged despite being so worn. It was contradictory, but to sit out in the sun so long and not be bleached, it was downright impressive.

Such a thing would be perfect of keeping the sand out of her fur coat, and keep the sun off her. If it lasted forever, all the better!

“Didn’t know it was my birthday already.” Catra cheshiredly grinned. Planting her foot on the back of the dried skeleton’s head and grabbing the collar of the vest. Roughly tugging and pulling it off the corpse. The arms falling off pitifully.

With a couple quick flaps to dust it, Catra tried it on.

It fit like a glove, better than one even! A beautiful red duster vest, and she didn’t even have to cut the sleeves off. Her favorite color too. If fate existed, then this thing had been waiting for her in the desert her entire life.

She had seldom the time to appreciate it though, as movement caught her eye. A cactus root that was oddly wrapped around the mummy’s spine suddenly snapped it like a twig and slipped down into the sands below like a tentacle descending under a murky ocean.

 _That_ , was probably not good. Plants didn’t usually do that!

A primal instinct in Catra’s brain told her to run, and a scream in the desert air gave her a direction.

Like a chain reaction, more roots seemed to burst out of the ground like grabbing hands, as the Cat bolted towards the screams.


	5. All Twisted Up

“You good?”

“Yeah. Fine. Just gonna try to walk that off, Go help Glimmer pick the cactus fruits. Watch the spines.” Catra ordered as she stumbled away.

Tactus hesitated on letting her go, but she seemed to be fine, if maybe a little dizzy. It was just how non-aviaran’s tended to be, he presumed.

He heeded her orders, but he was unfamiliar with these, ‘Cacti’. He knew the word and had read about them. As part of the course the Horde had forced him to undertake to speak and understand their language. Though, he had never seen one up close. Standing next to Glimmer who picked the fruits carefully.

She stopped when she noticed he wasn’t moving.

“You ok there Tactus?”

“Hmm…yes, just…observing…May I see one of those fruits?”

She glanced down at the prickly pear in her hands, offering it to him gingerly.

“Careful, the spines will hurt you if you don’t take them out.”

He took it, holding it in the tips of his claws and looking the entire odd fruit over. Covered in spines, just as the plant it came from.

“Surely you don’t eat this with these little spikes still on, yes?”

Glimmer snorted, shaking her head.

“I’m not going to lie, I had about the same reaction when I first had them. This older woman we met, Huntara, showed me how to eat them here lemme just…borrow your hand for a sec.”

Glimmer asks, stepping beside Tactus and taking his hand in hers.

The feathers on the back of his neck stood up at her touch, as she guided his hands across the fruit’s flesh. They didn’t have a knife, but his Talons would do. She pressed his thumb upwards so the tip of his claws dug into the top of the fruit.

“You need to slit it open and peel it, but with something so prickly you need to work it slow, to avoid all the spines.”

Slowly, she guided his thumb back down to perfectly slice through the skin. Though ordinarily his hands would be as precise as a surgeon, Tactus felt the tiniest tremble under her touch as the reddened core of the fruit was revealed.

“That’s very good! Now, you just peel off the skin, and it should be perfectly safe to eat!” Glimmer beams, letting go of his hand to let him do the rest.

He blinked slowly as he stared at the reddened fruit. Taking great care to peel off the skin and taking out the near blood red core.

He brought it up to his beak to take a small sniff, barely detecting anything. Not that he expected much, poor sense of smell due to his biology afterall.

He took a tiny nibble and was met with an oddly floral taste, strong. A bit of an odd texture he couldn’t quite describe with a hardened little pit in his first bite. The red juices staining the end of his beak, and a few drops running down his chest.

Glimmer almost laughed at how he was unintentionally adorably messy.

“Good isn’t it? I always thought it tasted a little like watermelon…”

“A what?” Tactus squints, never having heard of the thing. Looking down at the fruit in curiosity still, before holding it out to Glimmer.

“Oh no Tactus, it’s fine. I can get my own!” She protested.

“You don’t have a knife. Besides, you picked it out first.”

Glimmer harrumphed, taking it back. She did want to get the chalky taste of their last meal out of her mouth. Not to mention she was hungry anyways. It had been a few hours since they had last eaten.

Taking a huge bite and immediately causing the juices to stain her lips, cheeks, and even her shirt. Worthy casualties in the war against awful rations and foul aftertastes.

A light inched over the horizon, casting rays through Glimmer’s hair and forcing the Bubo to squint. Which was a shame, in his opinion. Though on one hand, it was somewhat humorous to see her be covered in the juices so quickly from a single bite, he always loved how the light captured Glimmer. The way in which her hair glittered like so much stardust. He could stare at that for hours, and feel comfort in his soul.

“Oh! Sun’s coming up!” Tactus surmised, as the sun began to cast its rays across the desert sand. It wasn’t quite the purple sunrise he was used to back home, but there was admittedly a beauty to the sunrise on its own. As the colors of the sky changed just so that one would find it hard to tell where the sands ended, and the sky began.

Then there was yet again the way the light refracted off Glimmer, and it finally clicked for Tactus one of the many reasons she made him feel so comfortable. She reminded him of the sunsets and sunrises back home. The way the light crossed the snowflakes, and contrasted against the distant stars. She was akin to the beauty of the cosmos, and her spirit radiated a fire that made the sun of this world pale before her.

Glimmer turned around, blinking in the growing light, totally unaware of the entranced gaze Tactus was giving her. To anyone else, she’d look downright feral with how the juices of the fruit made her looked like she’d just ripped a chunk out of an animal with her teeth. In the light of the day she nearly recoiled at the natural sunlight, which she hadn’t seen in nearly a week at this point.

She held a hand up to block the rays, turning to Tactus, who was still thoroughly entranced.

“We should probably get moving. Catra said that town wasn’t too much farther from here, and if we keep moving, we might be able to make it by noon.” Glimmer posited. Looking to Tactus for his opinion, but he was still seemingly distant as he stared at her.

“Tactus?”

He snapped back to reality, as he realized she was talking to him.

“Oh! Yes. Er, I agree. We should…do that.” Not entirely sure what she was saying.

Glimmer didn’t really care whether he was actually paying attention, but it felt nice to at least be the one in charge for once.

“Right, you keep collecting these and I’ll go tell Catra the plan.” She grinned, happy to already have a 2 to 1 vote. Not wanting a repeat of last time.

But before she could pass Tactus, his senses suddenly felt heightened. An impending sense of dread struck him as he could hear something under the ground moving fast towards them. On instinct, he suddenly grabbed Glimmer by the shoulders and pulled her out of the way.

“Move!” he squawked out, as a massive root bursts from the ground where Glimmer had just been standing.

The Queen screaming in shock.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING!?!”

The root raised into the air, the tip of it feeling its way through the air like a snake. Suddenly striking, narrowly missing Tactus. Slithering between his legs and into the sands below.

“MOVE.” Tactus shrieked, pulling Glimmer up to her feet as they scrambled away. Tactus’ falling down face first back into the sand, a smaller root having come up and wrapped around his leg.

“TACTUS” Glimmer shouts back, turning back to help him.

Catra came over the hill like a red blur, wearing the duster she had peeled off a corpse just moments ago. Her hatchet in hand, and with one precise throw she severed the root that had wrapped around Tactus’ leg.

Already too late as more of them seemed to sprout from the ground and started advancing their way up his leg with it’s powerful grip.

“STAY BACK!” He warns as the roots continued to encircle him.

Not wanting to leave anyone behind, Glimmer tries to advance to help pull him out of here, toppling over too as her legs had been caught by the roots.

“GUYS!” Catra rushes across the sands, claws at the ready to start cutting them free. Tactus was already working on himself, as he had claws. Glimmer reached forward for the axe by Tactus’ leg, having no other tools to use.

But like a hydra, with each slash of a vine two more seemed to take its place.

“STAY BACK!” Tactus ordered once more, raising an arm to stop Catra. The same arm being quickly wrapped by roots and forced to the ground the moment he moves.

Catra skids to a stop in the sands. She’d be of no use if they all got caught. But judging by the skeleton she had peeled her duster from, these roots were gonna grab and hold on tight.

Another massive cluster of roots burst out just behind Catra, and try as she might she wanted to run. But something inside her told her that if she ran she’d die right then and there. She stood still as a statue, her eyes glancing down at Tactus who was nearly as still. The roots had strangely slowed their constriction of him to a crawl.

She hadn’t noticed it before, but her subconscious did. Glimmer, however, was continuing to struggle against the roots and tried to fight.

“NO. NOOO.” She screeched as the vines covered her more and more. Rough and digging into her skin.

“Stop.” Tactus pleaded as calmly as he could. Reaching out a hand and placing it on her arm. Glimmer had calmed down enough to see it happen, as had Catra.

The roots had moved to wrap around his arm only when he had decided to reach out to her. His entire forearm being wrapped in tight vines, the crushing force like pythons as they continued to be ensnared.

But with the less movement the trio made, the less aggressive the roots got. Glimmer panting in fear, with an entire massive vine wrapped around her waist. If it tried to pull itself back into the ground she’d surely snap in two. Tactus was ensnared on his stomach, and his bones couldn’t take much more pressure before he’d start to shatter like glass in a burlap sack.

Catra was figuring it out now too. These roots were reacting to motion, but how? Her mind raced to understand it. If the roots were underneath the sand, maybe they could feel the vibrations through the sand. Which would mean they’d capture anything they’d be able to feel.

Catra’s eyes darted to the spot the hatchet had been thrown, and although Glimmer now held it in her hands, there was a massive clump of roots by the indent it had left in the sand. The roots were blind! They could only detect them through the sands! That had to confirm the theory!

But Tactus and Glimmer were in danger _now._ The roots were constricting slowly with their breaths. With Glimmer panting as she was before, she felt like she was wearing a corset made of ropes. She tried desperately to slow her breathing down. Even holding her breath just to stop the tense roots from crushing her.

Tactus considered using his wing shields, but the roots had already wrapped itself around the wing joint. The flow of magic through his body to his wings would probably incite it to snap his wing clean off before he’d even be able to find protection with it. Then there was his arm, which felt like it was going to crush like a jar under a steam roller. Tactus too held his breath alongside Glimmer, hoping it’d buy him some time.

Catra’s hair stood on end as she could feel the massive root behind her inch closer with each breath. She wasn’t captured yet, and she’d need to act quick before the roots crushed them to death.

But how? If she moved, she was dead. And even if she could, there was no way she’d have the time to save both of them. At best she’d maybe be able to pull one of them out of here.

She couldn’t let Tactus die. Despite her continued annoyance at him, and even the times they butted heads. He was a decent enough person to her, more decent then she deserved. But it wasn’t just that. He was carrying the potion materials, and more importantly the vaccines.

But the vaccines were in his medic bag, underneath him and pressed down into the sand. Untold lives depended on those vials, and she couldn’t just let those be lost. All that pain to protect them to be squandered due to bad luck and a fucking plant? It was unthinkable.

But then there was Glimmer. No, she couldn’t let her die either. Not after all this time, not with all these feelings still in her head. Not after those nights, not after all those promises and laughs and hope. She couldn’t just live her life without Glimmer, romantically or otherwise. Oh gods, facing Adora would be hard on it’s own but to face her without Glimmer? And to see her die like this? She couldn’t. She didn’t deserve it.

Neither of them deserved this.

No, _NONE_ of them deserved this.

It wasn’t fair. To come all this way, to have tried so hard only for them to get caught in something simple and stupid like this. A carnivorous fucking Cactus. All because she had to disturb it’s last meal for a cool vest. Yet again she was stuck where she always seemed to be. In a lose-lose situation, as helpless as that same little girl Catra saw in her memories. 

The kitten that was routinely tortured by that horrible witch, for no other reason than simply because she happened to exist. Existence was her crime, and even when she tried to do better life chose to punish her like this.

But there was a third option. To run. Pretend like she was never here, run into the wastes and see about starting back up whatever meager life she could. Maybe join up with another raider gang and become the boss.

No. NO. Not after all that pain, not after all that struggle. She was not giving up. But each breath brought that fucking plant closer, and Glimmer was turning red. A sickening crunch could be heard from Tactus as the plant had finally started to crack ribs. Even with his intense breath holding. It was squeezing him just because of the motion of his blood pumping through him. The Owl couldn’t hold his breath any longer and he gasped in pain.

“CATRA PLEASE” he bleated through his collar. Another root wrapping around his throat, the vibration of the collar signaling it to him.

Glimmer finally exhaled, unable to hold it anymore as the roots started to pull her down. She wanted to scream, but couldn’t even make out a noise. On the verge of passing out, and hoping that her powers to teleport would finally return. Her eyes welling with tears, knowing that if she couldn’t that this was it. Dead to a plant of all things, and despite Tactus’ hand so close she couldn’t even grab it. No matter how much she wanted to at least have some comfort if this was how she was going to go.

It was sickening and all Catra could do was just stand there. Powerless. Powerless to do anything to help. That looming Root behind her as thick as a tree trunk. If dread could be physical, then here it was.

But Catra was past self-pity. Her blood boiled, and her heart raced. 

“It’s not fair…” She muttered, her teeth sharpening and her claws growing like long daggers.

Her breath was ragged and hot, steam billowing from her mouth and nostrils as she stood there in quiet rage.

Her heart surely would attract the plant’s attention now, that painfully strong beat was practically about to burst from her chest. Her blood was practically on fire.

A soft voice in her head spoke. Almost familiar, but not quite. Although it was as soft as a drop of dew, it was the last drop needed to break the dam.

That tiny voice which finally asked Catra.

“What are you going to do about it?”

Purple fire sparked from Catra’s fingertips. A war cry escaping her lips as she whipped around. Taking one long slash of her claws at the massive root behind her. Cutting it in half as it blazed and turned to dust.

“I’M GONNA WIN” The blazing cat cried out, as fire blasted from her hands and heat radiated from her. The sand beneath her feet turning to glass.

Roots struck at her on reflex. Burning and turning to ash as they approached her. Attracted to the flicker of the flames which surrounded her.

Just as with her previous transformation, the cat was fueled on pure rage.

“I CHOOSE BOTH, DO YOU HEAR ME?!?” she seemed to scream at the heavens, dashing to the two of them on the ground. Storming forward as root after root tried to reach for her only to quickly be vaporized.

She slashed at the air with her claws, causing fire to radiate forward in waves and burn off their vines, somehow leaving the two totally unharmed.

In the radiating glow of Catra’s flames, came the familiar sensation that Phoenix Fire emitted. That warm glow that raised one’s spirits and mended even the worst of injuries in the heat of battle.

Glimmer sucked in wind as the roots evaporated. Finally able to breathe. Tactus was in shock, there was no way the Phoenix Fire could still be active. Not after this long, but here he was.

His cracked ribs healed, and his shattered forearm mending rapidly.

Wanting to get as much distance from here as possible, the Big Cat lifted them off the ground and quickly tossed them over her proud shoulders.

“FUCK THIS.” She exclaimed, fleeing in large fiery leaps. The flames curling around her compatriots, and just as before. Despite the flames which surrounded her, and the sheer energy that emanated from her, they were completely safe.

Her will guided the fire, and they were safe because she willed it to be so. Even her clothes had not been set ablaze this time.

“Thanks for the save Catra…” Glimmer praised, as Catra sprinted. The feline crossing up and over a dune with them, trying to get as far away as she could.

Tactus tested his arm momentarily as he spoke.

“Very good save. Cutting it a bit close there, but we’re alive.” He eyed her as one eyes anything that seemed out of place. A second wind of Phoenix Fire? Very peculiar. Though she had ingested quite a bit.

Glimmer felt herself jostled around as Catra ran up the dune.

“We’re okay now Catra, you can put us down now.”

Tactus could hear Catra’s breath grow ragged again. His visor showing her heartbeat was unsettlingly high.

“Catra…Put us down. Now.”

“No…too important…you two need to be…safe…” Catra panted as her high ran low. Her eyes starting to droop in exhaustion.

Her teeth and claws receding, and the fire extinguishing as she suddenly flopped forward. Dropping the Bird and the Queen as she did, sending the three of them rolling down the sandy dune.

Their pain returning in a flash, Tactus’ beak clicking in pain. As he rolled all the way down.

“GAH…fuck.” He murmured. Glimmer getting up to her feet first at the bottom and coughing out some sand. The form of Catra’s passed out body rolled towards her, and she smoothly bent down on one knee and caught her in her arms. Skidding back in the sand from the impact, but she turned her around and looked at her unconscious face.

“Catra? CATRA?” Glimmer shook her slight, Tactus reaching a handout to stop her.

“Wait.”

“She just fainted!”

“Yes, but you never shake someone whose passed out.” He stops her. Placing a hand infront of Catra’s face, feeling her warm breath.

“Still breathing.” Tactus tilts his head, reasoning that was at least better than nothing.

“But what’s wrong with her?” Glimmer concernedly asks. Catra had just saved their lives and now here she was almost motionless.

“Any number of things could cause someone to faint. If she’s lucky, it’s just a sudden blood rush or minor syncope from that energy spike.” Tactus placed his fingers on Catra’s neck. Feeling a slow pulse which slowly grew stronger.

“She turned into that…Big Cat thing again. The Phoenix Cat. I thought she ran out of the magic from that…”

“Wait.” Tactus cut her off, as a thought occurred to him. There was a countdown in Catra’s body at that moment, and it was ticking down fast.

“Glimmer, put her down slowly.”

“What?” Glimmer wanted to protest, but Tactus’ judgements on these things had been sound for the most part. Then again he hadn’t seen this coming, so he clearly could be wrong.

“Just do it. Trust me.”

Glimmer didn’t want to, but she slowly set Catra down in the sand. Tactus waved a hand towards himself, and she reluctantly stepped over to him. Oddly, he chose to stand about 10 feet away from Catra. 

“You made a very good point, it should be all out of her system. But she drank a lot of it, maybe some residual traces, half-lifes and all. Adrenaline from the stressful situation causes It to circulate in the body faster, next thing you know, Big Ol’ Battle Cat. Followed by a sudden drop in blood pressure which renders her…”

Catra awoke gasping, throwing herself to her feet in an instant and slashing at the air around her with her claws. Breathing heavily and looking around erratically, finally catching a glimpse of Tactus and Glimmer.

Glimmer was somewhat horrified, as Catra had just swiped in the general direction of where her face had been a few seconds ago.

“Temporarily unconscious.” He finishes, crossing his arms somewhat smugly.

“Good call.” Glimmer remarks patting Tactus’ shoulder.

Catra looked at her hands in horror. She was back to normal and only vaguely remembered the past few minutes.

“Did…did I do it again?” Her eyes focused on her nails.

Glimmer smiled, walking up to Catra.

“Save our lives? Yeah you did.”

“Well, that and transform.” Tactus interjects.

“I believe we’ll need to run far more tests on you, Battlecat.” Tactus slapped Catra’s back approvingly.

“Are all these, changes permanent?” Catra questions, on one hand thrilled to have powers. On the other hand, very radical changes to one’s body are typically stressful, understandably.

“Very unlikely, but not impossible.” Tactus answered back. This was a strange case after all, as he had never heard of a non-aviarian ever successfully surviving and using Phoenix Fire before.

He flexed his previously broken arm again, taking a deep breath and letting his lungs fill to truly appreciate the miracle that had just occurred.

“I don’t think anyone could argue the results. You were incredible.” Glimmer complimented. Catra’s eyes softening, she opened her mouth to speak but a different voice rang out.

A gruff but feminine sounding voice suddenly blazoned across the sands.

“HOLD IT.”

Startled, the three turned their heads to the source of the noise.

Standing at about 4’11 was an old tortoise woman. A straw hat on her head, and an Etherian Horde first gen rifle aimed at them. It was almost as old and dusty as she seemed, a series of notches etched into it. Her shell was painted with all sorts of red colors, and a pair of dusty glasses on the tip of her snout.

A beat-up bandana wrapped around her neck and a metal brace on her right leg. How this slow-moving woman had gotten so close so fast was a feat in itself, but right now she had them dead to rights.

“Who the hell are you, and why were ya messin’ aroun’ in mah cactus field?”

Tactus was confused, they were far from the Cactus field at this point, far too far for this old Tortoise to have walked. Come to think of it, he had no idea where she had even come from. Aside from the dune, it was flat desert all around, the most visible thing being the sun which slowly rose into the sky and began to blind the poor bird.

“We-“ Glimmer began, but Catra quickly took charge.

“YOUR CACTUS FIELD? That fucking place nearly killed us!” Catra leered.

The Tortoise scoffed.

“Supposed to give it an offering before you start picking, then it leaves you alone. Best fruit in the entire desert, not that you’d know since judging by the amount of red on your friends there, they either were eating my fruit or just really enjoy their steaks rare.”

She motions to Glimmer and Tactus, who both still had red stains from the fruit on them. Glimmer’s uniform in particular being the more heavily stained, compared to Tactus who just had some red on the end of his beak.

“I’m old, not blind, and certainly not stupid. Though maybe I am since I haven’t gunned the three of you down yet for wearing Horde colors around here. But old Mama Bonham here thought that maybe, just maybe you three didn’t quite look like Horde. Least not this new batch that’s running around. So tell me Ms.Kitty. Am I stupid?” 

“We-“ Catra began, full of piss and vinegar. But Glimmer brilliantly leapt up and covered her mouth with her hands.

“NOPE. We’re just uh…” Glimmer fumbled on the words.

“Refugees…?” Tactus shrugged adding on. It wasn’t entirely wrong.

“We’re just wearing what we last had on us, that’s all. Running from the Horde too.” Glimmer added on.

“Uh huh..” Mama Bonham nodded, still sizing them up.

Mama Bonham eyeing Tactus suspiciously.

“You a doctor?”

Tactus blinked uncertainly. This old woman couldn’t read minds, could she?

“Uh…what makes you think that?”

She dryly looked down at his medic bag.

“If not, you got some purty interestin’ fashion choices. Though I guess anything would work, if you’re on the run, eh? So, answer the question. You a doctor?”

The tension in the air could be felt for miles as Catra and Glimmer slowly looked at Tactus.

He didn’t want to answer yes, because it wasn’t technically true, but dying in the middle of the desert wasn’t a pleasant option either.

“I…I well. I’m a field medic. Which if you need help is probably your best bet.”

The tortoise opened her mouth, seeming to just let the desert air flow into it as she licked her lips. Wetting her whistle before she spoke.

“You’ll do. Tell you three idiots what. I run a little Hostel in a shitheap town called ‘Blister’ not far from here. I doubt ya’ll wanna wander the desert aimlessly until you eventually keel over and die. So, how’s about you help me with my problems. I give ya a lift into town, maybe even shack ya up for the day. Assuming your boy there does a good job that is.”

The trio looked amongst themselves. This was the best opportunity they’ve had since they crashed. Glimmer and Catra knew the rules of the Crimson Wastes, and although Glimmer optimistically believed that someone was finally doing something nice for once, Catra reasoned in her mind that if it came to it, they could take the old broad.

“Works for us.” Glimmer shrugged, nodding her head.

“Good..Mmm…good.” Bonham croaked, cocking her head to the Sand Dune.

“My ride’s around that corner. You all walk infront.”

Catra squinted.

“How do we know you won’t just shoot us in the back.” Glimmer tugged hard on Catra’s sleeve, not wanting her to offend their new ally.

The tortoise scoffed.

“ ‘cause I’m too damn old to bend my wrinkly ass down to loot your corpse after. Now get moving Feisty.”

Catra snickered, shrugging her shoulders.

“Fair enough.” She slipped her hands into the pockets of her jumpsuit, striding forward with a casual sway to her walk. Tail pointed up in the air as she led the way. Followed closely by Glimmer and Tactus.

Sure enough, just round that corner there was a peculiar little hover speeder. It looked like an older model Catra remembered hearing Horde scouts had used back in the day when there was still a decent supply. But that was long before her time, before they switched over to Skiffs. Attached to it’s rear was a small flatbed which had its own hover capabilities too.

A tarp lay over the flatbed.

Bonham followed along at a steady pace.

“Go on now, git on in.” She restated, and the three of them sat down in the back of the flatbed. Barely fitting.

Bonham neared the speeder, and flipped her rifle around. Placing the butt in the sand and using it like a cane to boost herself up onto the seat. Shifting it back into her shooting hand, and taking the handlebars with one hand.

“I have some spare goggles, under the tarp. I’d advise wearing them.” Bonham commented.

“Hate for some sand or a rock to get propelled up and blind ya.”

Deciding to take her advice, Tactus lifted up the tarp. Glimmer pulling out a small wooden box with 3 sets of goggles inside.

“Lucky.” Catra muttered, slipping one pair on over her eyes. Glimmer putting on one as well, meanwhile Tactus awkwardly fit one over his eye exposed eye sideways, since he was seemingly reluctant to take the visor off.

Oddly having grown attached to the thing as a sort of trophy of the hardships he had faced along the way.

“If ya’ all set. Let’s giddy up!” Bonham grinned wide, and with a rev of the engine they were zooming across the desert.

The endless expanse seemed so much larger when you see it pass by as rapidly as it did, and still not very quickly find yourself seeing anything distinguishable.

“So…” Bonham began.

“So what?” Catra shot back, she didn’t like her tone. Too questioning for her taste.

“So, you all are running from the Horde eh? That right? It’s these new fellers, all look alike. Literally alike, occasionally some robots. Yeah?”

“Yes…?” Glimmer answered.

“Like to take over shit that ain’t theirs, and make people suffer.”

“Where are you going with this?” Tactus asks in concern.

Mama Bonham kept her mouth shut for a few uncomfortable seconds.

“You were ex-Horde, weren’tcha Ms.Kitty?”

Catra paused. They were riding on her Speeder, sure, and despite the favor, she didn’t like this question.

“What’s it ma-“

“Look. I ain’t stupid. Old, but I don’t forget easy. I remember your face little lady. All’s I got’s to say to ya is don’t go telling everybody when we get there. Them new fellers rolled into town a few days ago. You’re old horde friends let them waltz right up, thought it was a change of hands. But they marched each and every one of your soldier pals out into the desert and killed each and every one of them.”

Catra’s eyes widened, she had even known some of the people that were stationed out here. She had personally ordered some of them to be out here barely a few weeks ago. People she thought were good soldiers, like Grizzlor, one of her old CO’s on a few training missions. 

“W-what?” Her voice quavered slightly. She always knew that sending them anywhere could’ve gotten them killed, but the way in which they had gone bothered her to her core. Relinquishing rule over to someone totally unknowing of what was coming, practically her worst nightmare.

“Why?” Glimmer asked in horror, she couldn’t understand why Prime would allow such a thing to happen, let alone order such a thing. If they were free troops, what did it matter?

“Cause, they didn’t want interference and they’ve occupied Blister themselves. All this ‘Prime’ bullshit they’ve been talking. Don’t why but something riled them up about two days ago. So, Ms. Kitty, your Majesty, and whoever the hell you are, I’d advise keeping your heads down while we’re inside.”

Glimmer noticed that she called her ‘your majesty’, Bonham smirking back.

“Figured that out too. Anyone that glittery has gotta be a princess, even if I don’t reckon I’ve ever seen ya before. Personally, I’m not too fond of neither of ya’s type. But I reckon it’d be mighty unkind of me to just feed ya to the wolves. Lucky for ya’ll three. You’re riding with Mama Bonham. Speaking of which, names.”

“Gl-“ Glimmer began, but Mama Bonham suddenly made a tsking noise, raising a finger up to her.

“Tsk! Almost gotcha. Code names, don’t want you three idiots, and I’m gonna call youse idiot’s since ya were just wandering around the desert aimlessly, apparently munching on whatever closest thing resembling food you could find, to tell me what your names are. Less I know the better. So, the three of ya, should come up with some code names, if I may kindly suggest. I got clothes you three can borrow too if need be. Disguises and all.”

Catra was still shaken up, but oddly appreciative of this old Tortoise. At the very least, Catra would be able to survive long enough to make them pay one day.

She tried to push those horrible thoughts from her mind. Pointing directly at Glimmer.

“Sparkles. You’re Sparkles.”

Glimmer shot Catra a bemused expression.

“Thought I was already Sparkles…come on…I’m making my own name.”

Tactus saw the light refract through Glimmer’s hair again as it had before, and he snapped his fingers.

“Stardust.”

“NO!” Glimmer reflexively responded.

“I wanted to make my…” Glimmer’s brain had finally processed the name, and she stopped.

“Actually, that’s not bad. I kinda like that.” She comments. It had an almost Rockstar vibe to it that made it so appealing to her.

“Now do me.” Tactus begs, Catra rolling her eyes as she decided to look for the spare clothes. Spotting a suitcase.

“I don’t know, birdbrain?”

“Aw come on, are you even trying?”

Glimmer snapped her fingers, poking Tactus in the chest.

“Kowl.”

Tactus stared at her incredulously.

“ _Kowl?_ ”

“Yes.” Glimmer affirmed. Grinning wide and immensely pleased with herself.

Tactus thought it was an odd name choice, but he barely understood the naming conventions of this world, and decided to roll with it.

“Sure.” He shrugged.

Catra suddenly exclaimed, having found the spare clothes in a burlap sack.

“Ooh…I know what I want my name to be…” she started, lifting her head up to reveal she was wearing a black cowboy hat. A look that somehow seemed to work perfectly with the rest of her ensemble, of a white torn jumpsuit and red leather duster vest and goggles.

“Call me…Battlecat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. This is it. The Last chapter BEFORE the Final Season comes out. I'm still going to be going long after, but as most of you I imagine will be watching the new season soon, I just wanted to ask that you please avoid posting spoilers in the comments for the readers who haven't seen the new season yet.
> 
> ALSO. Be ready, cause the show may be over but this story sure as hell ain't!


	6. Casa de Zepelín

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Alright, S5 is out! Watched it! Things are NOT going to go exactly like that. Just clarifying that now, but I'm not going into too much detail on those subjects. That's all I've gotta say, ya'll have fun!)  
> -5/20/2020

The Speeder inched closer to the town of Blister. A shanty town made from the rusted steel and iron left over from countless battles that had occurred in the Crimson Wastes or from the many campaigns led by Horde to attempt to reclaim territory in the Wastes.

About 25 years prior had seen one of the most famous attempts. Not long after Hordak’s arrival in Etheria he had sought to expand into the Wastes. A territory largely unguarded and unpopulated, but filled with such unique fauna that he had thought to weaponize.

Quickly the plan fell apart, as the area was deemed impossible to colonize and maintain for any of the non-inhabitants. At least at the standards needed to be met for a military force, and the land alone was outright completely useless, as the Crimson Wastes occupied land too far south to be of any strategical advantage to the conquering of Etheria.

As such, there was plenty of scrap for the scavengers of the Crimson Wastes to work with. Building towns from shipping crates, old ships barely capable of flight above the ground. Bits and pieces from the original Fright Zone empires that had aided in Hordak’s expansion.

Even some new pieces installed from the more recent campaign into the Crimson Wastes pushed by Catra. The people were divided on the Horde before this, as the Horde’s interference meant they seized any of the rarest of tech. But they had brought humidity condensers and moisture farming technology which provided clean water. The more aggressive of raiding parties had been destroyed. But still there was the occupation they had been used to, of people that seemed like they could be their neighbors. People that never looked that different from them.

This new occupation was not at all like that.

They marched in as if they had been here for years. They had dropped in an entire new base of operations, airdropped from the skies above and poured out like maggots from a decrepit wound. A spire that stuck out at the edge of town into the sky like a giant phallus. The insecurity of the owner on the proudest of displays to the entire world, or at least just the town of Blister.

It’s disgustingly neon green and white colorings, with it’s thinnest veiled attempt at looking elegant clashed with the simple shanty village it had landed besides.

Within an hour of it’s arrival they had subdued the Etherian Horde soldiers that were in the town, and by the end of the first day they had set up new rules and regulations. Including first the transfer of all individuals in good health and of a good age to be moved to the Spire for ‘examinations’.

Being a town that never had the best food or water, and in the Crimson Wastes, an environment of such stress and hardships. The majority of the town’s folk did not fit into such criteria. Too young, too old, too injured or sick.

The Horde did not want such individuals or care enough about them to see them as a threat. It was simple war tactics to them. Get rid of the most capable, and leave the ones they believed to be least capable to put strain on the town’s resources and quell rebellion before it started.

A population of nearly 500, was reduced to barely 150 within a few days. But unbeknownst to Prime’s Horde, they did not factor in one thing about the people of this land.

“Erry’ single one o’ us had to be tough ‘nough to make it out here regardless of our so called ‘invalidities’ or whatever that moron said. We’re survivors, and I sure as hell didn’t get to the ripe age o’ 104 out here just for some pale-faced soldier boy to take my world from me and expect me to sit around all sorry for myself.” Mama Bonham professed.

“Damn right.” Glimmer piped up, inspired by Mama Bonham’s words. Hoping in her heart that when she reached her age, she too would have the same resolve to keep fighting. Though she hoped at that age, there wouldn’t be anything left to fight.

Her hand went to her own throat as she adjusted her poncho. It was a gift from the tortoise to help with her disguise. A long time ago it must’ve been red gray and brown, but it had sunbleached into pink, white and tan. Almost in tatters, but the age made it seem like it fit her more.

The scarf she had wrapped her head in added to her disguise, but she couldn’t help but feel like a woman from an old pulp novel. With her head wrapped, and goggles on. Dressed completely incognito as she sauntered around, cheating on her husband or something of such nature.

She almost wanted to press her back into a wall, and breathily whisper someone’s name to them, just to truly match the image. 

Though if that’s what was on her mind, she wondered what Cowboy novel Catra had walked out of. That hat ontop of her head, those goggles with her vest and jumpsuit. On her road to redemption, confident and content.

But then there was Tactus, who sat seemingly downtrodden as the news hit him.

By her own logic, Tactus probably felt like a vampire or some other such monster. He was too big and too colorful to be able to hide normally. He’d have to hide his wings once more just to walk into town. So, He had taken the entire gray tarp off the bottom of the flatbed. Wrapping it around his whole body as some sort of cloak.

The faintest glow of his visor and the tip of his beak sticking out, being his only identifiable features underneath the hood of his cloak. It worked two-fold, shielding the owl from the bright rays of this world’s son. It had been too long since he had been in the daylight, and the heat of this world was nearly unbearable.

Still, he did not dare complain. For fear that he may find he was hallucinating again, and had infact never left his cell on the Prime Citadel.

“What do you think, Tac-…Kowl?” Glimmer asks, wanting his opinion on the occupation of the town. He was the one with the most experience of this group after all.

“Well, Stardust…” His collar briefly lit up as he spoke, illuminating his face only slightly.

“They weren’t lying about ‘examinations’. Current modus operandi for Horde forces is to gather the healthy for their genetics.”

“Wait,” Catra stopped him.

“Why do they need to know other species genetics if their clones. I thought they praised Prime’s genetics for purity or some other such bullshit?”

Tactus snorted.

“Yeah but fighting a 20 year war with people who specialize in medicine and chemistry teaches you that an entire army built on the exact same genetic structure is a very poor decision. If one of them is susceptible to one flaw in their code, odds are the rest will be too. We found the exploits, and they’re trying to patch them with other species’ genetics.”

Mama Bonham crooked her head back.

“I have no idea whatcha’ just said. But it sounded an awful lot like they’re doing this cause of yo’ people. That true?”

Tactus remained silent. Holding his tongue. He wanted to be angry but all he felt was shame. He couldn’t lie and say he hadn’t thought the same some nights. If they had just won, then this wouldn’t be happening here. It was the inescapable-ness that came with fighting. Riding the fine line between escalating violence and preventing it from happening.

Noting his uncomfortable loss for words, and the way how he hung his head after her question. Glimmer couldn’t let that go.

“Mama Bonham, with all due respect. I’m pretty sure they’d be doing this regardless of what his people did.”

Catra had also noticed his reluctance to stick up for himself. She was never good at peptalks or affection that wasn’t playful digs. Aggression wasn’t the best, but it was as close as she could get.

“Gl- Stardust is right. If…Kowl’s people didn’t fight then the Horde would’ve steamrolled over them. We’ve seen the tech and we know what they’re capable of. Hell, without Kowl here we wouldn’t even be here to tell you this.” She says, patting him on his back. 

“Thank you.” Tactus muttered, lifting his head up only slightly. Thankful for their support, even if he wasn’t entirely sure he deserved it.

But the Tortoise shrugged.

“Well, just wish ya’ll finished the job then…” She replies solemnly as they neared the town.

The spire was visible for miles now, but the town was coming into view. It was just as Bonham had described, with smoke billowing from spots in town where people burned trash fires.

A corrugated steel wall around the town, which didn’t do a whole lot except keep the sand and dust out. 

“Keep ya’lls heads down when we go in. So long as ya’ll don’t stand out too hard you won’t be noticed. Maybe try faking a limp if you’re good enough at it. I ain’t got a spare brace for that.”

She remarks.

Glimmer stared confused as they neared the front gate. It was hinged and seeming made from a couple wings from some old airship. But there were several guards at the front.

“A checkpoint? We can’t go through a checkpoint.” Glimmer stated, realizing their plan might be falling apart.

“No faith in you young people, is there?” Mama Bonham chortled, veering left and away from the main gate. Coming around the side of the town, which just showed more wall and a dead shrub.

“Like we’re going in the front. Well, I am. But you three, are certainly not.”

“You promised to get us in!” Catra protested.

“That I am.” The Tortoise states simply, parking her hover bike, pointing at a dead shrub.

“There’s a tunnel behind that shrub. Crawl all the way in and knock 3 times on the wood, then wait. You’ll be in my Hostel in no time. Simple as that.”

Catra didn’t like the idea of crawling through an unknown space, but it was better than going through the checkpoint.

“Fine, then what are we waiting for?” Catra hops off the flatbed, landing in the sand roughly on her feet.

Although Tactus was somewhat reluctant to say so due to some of the uncomfortable conversation that had been made on the way over. He felt the need to show gratitude to his host.

“Thank you.” He chirped out, giving a short curt bow of his head.

“Yes, Thank Mama Bonham!” Glimmer waved as she stepped off the flatbed.

The Tortoise nodded. Licking her lips as she restarted her hoverbike and turned back around to head in through the front.

Tactus trudged forward, towards where Catra stood as she peeled back the shrub. Revealing a moderately sized pipe that went not only under the fence but under the ground into the darkness.

Seeing Catra stopped infront of the hole, Tactus sighed, stepping forward towards the pipe. Figuring he’d be the guinea pig here. But Catra suddenly grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him back.

“Oh no fuckin’ way, Birdbrain. YOU, are going last.”

“What? Why?”

“Because last thing I need is your big ass getting stuck in this pipe and me and Glimmer having to push you through.” Catra ordered, getting down on her hands and knees and crawling into the pipe.

Tactus guffawed, turning his head to Glimmer for her response. But she only shrugged and stepped ahead of him.

“She’s got a point. Sorry big guy.”

She responded, crawling in behind Catra, also on her hands and knees.

Tactus smirked to himself in amusement. It was admittedly a little funny, and he wasn’t all that mad. Instead of being on his hands and knees, the bird had to lie prone and pull himself forward on his forearms. Sliding over the PVC piping.

He couldn’t quite see to the end. The pipe was remarkably long. His entire field of vision was taken up by the form of Glimmer in a rather compromising angle.

“How fuckin’ long is this thing?” Catra cursed as she scooted forward.

‘Hopefully not much longer’ Tactus thought. Feeling dirty just being here. Lowering his gaze to look down at his arms for Glimmer’s sake. She was almost certainly into the two of them by now, Tactus knew that.

His heart rate sensor showed spikes in her heartbeat whenever either of them got intimately close. But it was one thing to know someone was into you, and to have permission to look.

Glimmer however, wasn’t following nearly the same code. Keeping a very steady gaze straight infront of her at the slender cat.

“Hopefully long enough…to uh, get us into town I mean.” She sputtered out. Not wanting to show just how much she was enjoying this. But Catra knew.

She was making a scene of it, even flicking her tail and swaying her hips. But finally she saw in the darkness the end of the pipe as it curved upwards. Stopping suddenly.

Glimmer took another lurch forward, barely stopping as she felt Catra’s tail in her face.

But Glimmer suddenly yelped as she suddenly felt something rigid bump into a certain crevice. Her face turning tomato red.

The Owl recoiled as he realized what his beak had just bumped into. Blushing so hard it’d surely show up through his feathers.

“Gah! Sorry!” He threw himself back. His feathers puffing up in his flustered and embarrassed state.

“Hey Tactus, pretty sure that bet Sparkles made was a joke, no need to hold up your end.”

Glimmer, despite being redder then Catra’s vest’s eyes widened as she saw an opportunity to come out ontop here. Despite the embarrassment.

“Hey, if you think you lost, you’ll get your turn later!”

Catra cackled.

“Oh, by now I’m pretty sure I’m the one winning that bet, and I say you’re in prime position to get to work, Sparkles.”

She flicked her tail in Glimmer’s face.

“As fun as this all sounds…” Tactus began, as he wiped off the end of his beak with a bit of the cloth tarp.

“Could we please just get out of this pipe?” He pleads, not daring to look again so he wouldn’t be reminded of his shame at what just happened.

“You always going to have a stick up your ass, or is it just especially a problem while you have your beak crammed up someone else’s?” Catra jeered, trying to slide her way up the pipe, where she saw a wooden panel blocking the end. Knocking roughly on it 3 times.

Commotion could be heard above, a distant voice barely heard.

“I got it, I got it!” said one gruff woman up top. The wooden hatch flipping open.

Light filled the hatch.

“Come on, you’re safe no-” the voice started in a coaxing manner, but as Catra reached forward. Her eyes blinded as they adjusted to the new light. The purple figure ahead being distorted by the light.

“Wait a fucking second.” The voice suddenly grumbled in realization, as she saw through Catra’s disguise. Grabbing her around the neck and pulling her out. Slamming her into one of the walls of the hostel above.

“GODDAMNED HORDE SCUM.” The buff woman shouted in alarm. Catra blinked as she regained her vision, and finally she recognized who she was looking at.

Standing at 6’7, purple as the day she was born, and even more jacked than She-Ra herself, was Huntara. Hand wrapped tightly around Catra’s neck and seeming like she was about to snap it.

“HGHK” Catra chokes out, trying to flip her legs up to try and throw the muscular older woman off her balance but it wasn’t working.

“You must be pretty fucking stupid to show your face around here.”

“WAIT.” Glimmer cried out as she finally ascended up the pipe.

“She’s with us Huntara!”

Huntara recognized that voice, turning her head and spotting the Queen of Brightmoon herself.

“Glimmer?” she confusedly queried. Turning her head back to Catra and eyeing her, before reluctantly dropping her.

Huntara smiled.

“Queen Glimmer. Been awhile, kid. Say, if you’re here that must mean…”

Huntara looked down the pipe only to spot Tactus climbing up, her face sinking in disappointment.

“Oh.”

“What are you doing here, Huntara?” Glimmer questions, while Catra rubbed her neck, coughing and gasping for breath.

“When a bunch of ships come out of the sky and drop all new soldiers into my territory, I don’t take it lightly. So, one scouting mission later and I’m practically under house arrest with this place getting swarmed by Horde. Met Mama Bonham, didja?”

“She saved us in the desert.” Tactus answered back, amazed at the woman’s physique. She was built like she bench-pressed smaller bodybuilders for a living. But despite looking like she could punch out a tank, with biceps bigger than his head. Something inside Tactus told him that she was even stronger than she looked.

Huntara glanced at Tactus’ translator necklace, not having expected him to speak through there but figured she saw weirder things all the time. Her eyes drifted to the medical bag in Horde colors, and then to the rest of them. Noting their jumpsuits.

“I think I got an idea why she brought you. You specifically, what’s your name?”

Tactus uncertainly turned to Glimmer.

“We still using codenames or…?”

“Huntara’s a friend, we can trust her.” Glimmer vouched.

Tactus gave a tiny bow of his head as he spoke.

“I am Tactus, Last Noble from the Hemo Invicta Bloodline, Heir to the throne of Aviaria. For now, my codename is Kowl.”

“Hey Tactus.” Catra begins, slowly getting off the floor.

“Yes?”

“Are you gonna do the full speech to everyone we meet?” 

“Maybe.” He chuckled.

Huntara had no idea what half those things he said were, and frankly didn’t care.

“You’re a doctor though, right?” She inquires, reaching forward and lifting the strap on his medic bag.

Tactus sighed, hating that question more and more now. It was just a constant reminder of the things he’d never get the chance to do back home again.

“As close as one gets around here. Yes.”

Huntara flashed a toothy grin.

“Amazing the people you meet in the middle of a desert. You’re just what we’ve needed. I’ll let Bonham show you what to do.”

“Talking about me?” The Tortoise walks up, having silently entered from the front door mere moments ago. Entering from the living room of the Hostel.

“Mama Bonham.” Huntara addressed. The old Tortoise kept her head held high as she strode forward. The brace on her leg moving smoothly as if she didn’t even need the thing. Her eyes weren’t squinting as much, and an overall vitality seemed to return to her.

“Kowl. Come with me. Huntara, we’ll be with Paige if you need us. Make these two feel at home, ya hear?” She orders. Tactus took one last glance back to Glimmer and Catra, before straightening his tarp cloak and following Mama Bonham off, as she led him away to another room. Butterflies in his stomach as he psyched himself up for whatever they must’ve needed him for. Still not sure on exactly what it would be.

“Oh, almost forgot, Welcome to Casa De Zepelín!” Mama Bonham proudly announced as she disappears with Tactus into a back room.

Glimmer crooked up an eyebrow.

“Casa De Zepelín?”

“It roughly means ‘Airship House’, not the most creative name, I know.” Huntara exposited, motioning to the rounded ceiling. Neither Catra nor Glimmer had really gotten a chance to look around yet. But as far as salvaged homes go, this seemed pretty nice.

It was mostly made from the hull of an old airship, with the floor made from real wood. So was most of the furniture, incredible given the lack of trees. Granted, made from plywood mainly. The false panel they had come out from, was smackdab in the middle between what seemed to be the kitchen and the dining room.

Huntara however, wanted to make good on Mama Bonham’s orders.

“Mama Bonham always had an eye for good people out here. But before we get to that, I have _many_ questions on why you two are not only working together, but wearing those horde uniforms under your clothes. Well, that and whatever the fuck is up with the bird.”

She began, leading them to the dining table. Which was just a large hunk of sheet metal on crates. With boxes covered in blankets for cushions.

Catra rolled her eyes as she sat down at one end.

“Like we’ve figured that out yet. Well, ‘Stardust’, you wanna tell the story or should I?”

Glimmer gulped, rubbing her temples as she tried to recollect everything. Sitting next to Catra with her head in her hands.

“Where do I begin?”

* * *

Far from the wreckage of Blood Arachnia, Micah and Adora wandered across the desert’s expanse.

There was no point for all of them staying behind if there was potential to find Glimmer sooner. Bow was injured, and unable to shoot. Entrapta was too busy working on retrofitting to potentially salvage and fix their main vehicle out of the Crimson Wastes. With Scorpia staying behind for their protection.

She had volunteered, saying it made more sense for Micah and Adora to be the ones to find Glimmer. She regretted that Bow was too deep in his pain-fueled delirium to be of much use, and thought it’d be too cruel to make Adora stay behind. 

The trekking had been long, and generally uneventful. Micah spending a fair amount of the time checking on the status of his kingdom through the datapads. With Adora’s help of course, as he was generally unfamiliar with the new tech.

“And what of the status of Brightmoon?” Micah asked over the datapad. The top general of Brightmoon, General Lumina on the other side of the line.

“We repelled a massive attack with minimal casualties. Shadow Weaver came out of her room to assist, sent out a barrage on some of their dropships. It’s strange though, your Highness. It almost seems like they’ve retreated.”

“Hmm.” Micah pondered over this. If the Prime Citadel was as heavily damaged as Entrapta had described based on the readings, that only made sense. Likely Prime was pulling back troops to regroup until he could build back up his normal. That, or this was a ploy to bait them into lowering their guard.

“Keep everyone on High-Alert. See that the Mystacor sorcerer’s guild does what they can to track their movements. And as much as this pains me to say…” Micah paused, his words feeling bitter. The same disgusting taste one gets when they throw up a little in their mouth, but are forced to swallow it down while in a social situation.

“Tell Shadow Weaver I said that I ‘Appreciate her service’. You too, might I add.”

Adora popped her head over King Micah’s shoulder.

“Any word from the other princesses?”

“Other kingdoms are maintaining their ground. Offensive measures by the Horde has dropped over 80 percent. No news of any further spires cropping up.” 

“What about Double Trouble?” Adora inquired. The Shapeshifter’s disappearance had been concerning, as with Prime’s forces in Etheria, Adora was reasonably concerned about their potential to switch sides. Their capabilities were devastating to the cohesion of the Rebellion before, and a repeat at such a crucial time would be detrimental at best.

“No sign of them. No traces for the Mystacor Sorcerer’s to work off either for any tracking spells. We have no idea where they are.”

“Thank you anyways General Lumina, that will be all.” Adora dejectedly murmured.

General Lumina gave a salute.

“Over and out!” She declared. The call ending abruptly after.

Micah put away the datapad in silence. He had been quiet lately, and that bothered Adora. Most of the walk was in silence, but now Adora finally decided to break the ice.

“At least it’s mostly good news.”

Micah blinked a few times, stopping and rubbing his eyes.

“Hmm? Yes. Sorry was just…deep in thought.”

“About Glimmer, right?”

“I’m distraught, Adora.”

Adora rubbed the back of her neck, uncomfortably.

“I know how you feel. I’ve been spending a lot of time worrying about Glimmer too, but she’s so strong Micah. The moment she sets her mind to do something, she’s going to do it. Regardless of what anyone else thinks.”

Micah smiled softly.

“Just like her mother…I worry that something might happen. That I’ll have come all this way to see her only for her to slip through my grasp again.”

“She won’t. I promise you. We’re going to get her back.”

Adora found herself promising yet again to one of Glimmer’s parents. Just as she had vowed to protect Glimmer when Angella had sacrificed herself to save Etheria.

The guilt of not doing more to prevent this hung over her head, but even then, Glimmer hadn’t made it easy. All the arguing that had come before her attempt to access the heart of Etheria. She was frustrated with her, that quality she loved in her so much was what had driven them apart and it ate away at her even now.

“Is this Catra person…the looks the others gave, she’s…not very well-liked is she?”

Adora bit her tongue. She had just realized she hadn’t ever told Micah who Catra was over this long walk. Her expression took on a look of horror. She’d have to navigate this carefully.

“Catra is…was…a childhood friend. We grew up together but when I left the Horde she stayed. Then spent the entire rest of the time she was there making our lives hell.”

Micah’s eyes fell.

“This…woman is with my baby girl?” 

Adora wanted to scream. She didn’t want to lie to Micah, but she also wanted to give him hope.

“Adora…be honest with me.” Micah needles, practically reading her mind.

“This woman...if she’s with Glimmer, is…” He was nearly in tears, his hand clench into a fist as he covered his mouth. Any attempt at speaking caught in his throat.

‘Dammit…’ Adora thought, taking a deep breath.

“Catra never liked figures of authority, and is tough as nails. If she’s with Glimmer and they’re working together, then they’re alright. They’re…”

As Adora’s heart swirled with emotions, she wondered how she never truly realized it before now. Perhaps she was one of those kinds of people who could only ever truly think outloud? As the words came so naturally to her lips, as one would let the air of a sigh escape them.

“They’re so very much alike in that way. Powerful, incredible people. Just, in such very different ways. If Catra’s worked with Glimmer this far to get home, then if we’re lucky she’s finally decided to come to our side of the war.”

Micah stared at the glow in Adora’s eyes. He saw hope, but something underneath it burned. It was something he had seen in himself when he was just a young man, looking into the eyes of his beloved Angella.

For her to talk about his daughter like that, the passion she showed and pursuit to come this far. Helping an old man like him see his daughter, her willingness to assist others. A smile crossed his face as he remembered yet again that his daughter was old enough to be a queen.

She most certainly didn’t need dear old dad to shop for potential suitors for her, but surely, he could put in a good recommendation.

“I’m…not at ease just yet. But I feel better now. Knowing not just that Glimmer’s got the odds are her side but, but to know that she’s had such good…friends keeping an eye on her while I was gone.” 

Finally, Adora could feel a little pride.

“That means a lot coming from you, your majesty.”

Micah chuckled.

“Come on then kid, we’d better keep moving if we plan to make any real progress today.” Micah insisted, making longer strides to hopefully be able to cover more ground.

“Right here with you, Sir.” Adora assured, as they walked under the desert sun.

* * *

The incredible story of their capture, followed by meeting Tactus and eventually escaping, Was told over lunch in Casa de Zepelín. There wasn’t much to eat, but they at least had meat, tortillas, and peppers. Standard fare out here, alongside the occasional fruit, dried jerky, and aloe vera tea.

They had all relaxed, and taken off the hotter of their disguise pieces. Really, the codenames weren’t necessary now anyways. They were among allies.

The pair had enjoyed their fair share of the foods available, talking as they ate.

Glimmer swallowed down a bite from the fajita taco on her plate. Not realizing how much she had missed real food. Clearing her throat and continuing with her story.

“So, After stumbling down a dune and watching Catra spring back to life.”

“After totally saving your guy’s lives from a fucking killer cactus, which by the way. What the fuck, right?”

“Catra.”

“Still not over that! We nearly died to a Cactus, fuck the Crimson Wastes. Why is everything dangerous out here?”

Huntara chuckled.

“She’s got a point.” She agreed, munching on a strip of jerky.

Glimmer rolled her eyes, continuing with the story.

“So! After that, we meet Mama Bonham, who agreed to give us at least a place to stay for the night if Tactus took care of…” Glimmer was just now realizing that not only was Tactus still not back from whatever it was Mama Bonham wanted him to do. Neither was she.

She ran a hand trough her hair, brushing back one of the strands that had fallen down over her face. The heat of the Crimson Waste’s during the day was nothing to be trifled with, and she was thankful to be indoors.

Mama Bonham burst in from the other room she had brought Tactus into.

“Hey um, can one of ya’s help me with your boy? He’s…”

Catra’s brow furrowed in concern. Almost getting up, but Glimmer was quicker. Pushing out her chair.

“What’s wrong with Tactus?”

“He’s fine!” Bonham was quick to reassure.

“He’s just…well you might want to take a look.” Bonham opened the door wide to let Glimmer pass.

Catra debated getting up, but she was too invested in her food. She didn’t fully trust them, but they were working with Huntara, who worked for Princesses. Therefore, it likely wasn’t anything to worry about.

But even Huntara seemed a little perplexed. She knew what the situation was back there, but didn’t understand what could be a problem.

“You gonna need me?” She asks, about to stand up.

“No, no! It’s nothing like that…” Bonham waved her off, as Glimmer walked through the hall.

As she neared, she could just faintly hear his sobs echo off the walls.

“It’s okay…it’s okay…” came an unfamiliar voice as it cooed to him.

“I know, I know…” he repeated back.

Now _THAT,_ got Glimmer’s attention, and she speedwalked ahead.

Entering a room which confounded her.

The walls were painted in bright pastels. A baby blue sky with little fluffly white clouds. A pen in the center of the room, with sand and what seemed to be large round rocks inside.

Tactus was sitting next to the odd pen, head bowed as he hugged some woman tightly.

She was a reptile, who was on her knees with Tactus. A horned gecko it seemed, by the spikes that protruded from the sides of her face.

“They’re so healthy and strong…” Tactus choked out. Glimmer looking from the Reptile, to the odd pen in the center of the room. The weird rocks and the painted walls.

Those weren’t rocks, they were _eggs,_ and this was a _nursery._

“You’re friend there was helping my daughter, Paige, here check the health of my grandkids. But moment he finished and wrote em’ a clean bill of health, he plum burst into tears.” Bonham explained to Glimmer, who had almost come to that conclusion herself.

Paige, raised an arm. Waving her metal hooked hand to Glimmer.

“Hey there! Proud mom, and I’m technically her daughter-in-law.”

“Dammit, you’re as good as mine in my book.” Bonham retorted.

Paige rolled her eyes.

“Yes, mom…now hon, you mind helping me with him?” She tapped the Owl on the top of his head. The owl slowly pulling away from Paige, his eyes red.

“I’m sorry…I just…” He glances back at the pen, his eyes looking directly at the eggs. Glimmer realizing this is probably the closest thing to seeing kids he’s gotten in years, and the fact they were eggs of all things likely wasn’t helping him right now.

Glimmer kneeled down with him, placing a hand on his back.

“Hey buddy, it’s fine…I get it.”

His eyes welled up again, and this time he latched onto Glimmer, hugging her tight. In the list of things to expect today, a baby-crazy owl nearly breaking her back in such a grip was not on her list.

“They’re just so small…they’re going to come out all…chubby and cute, waddling around and I’m just…”

Glimmer’s eyes drifted to the pen. Her mind conjuring up images of tiny lizards bursting from their eggs. Blinking wide-eyed into the new world.

“Stop it, Tactus they’re…” she tried to shush him, but it was too late. She had baby lizards on her mind, and her eyes were already growing wet. Finally, she could take no more of trying to hold it in.

“Oh my god they’re going to be adoraableeeee!” Glimmer squealed as she started to breakdown too. Burying her face in Tactus’ fluff.

As proud as she was of her future motherhood, even Paige groaned in annoyance as she realized that things had gotten worse. Now there were two of them.

Mama Bonham sighed, rubbing her face with her hands.

“Try to put out a fire, and I just poured goddamn, gasoline…” she muttered, hobbling off and poking her head back into the dining room.

“Hey Feisty!” She addressed Catra, who lifted her head up from her food.

“Please tell me you hate kids.”

Catra’s ears perked up, and she stood up fast, slamming her hands down on the table.

“Dammit, I _knew_ I was born for something!” She sprinted over, cracking her knuckles.

Mama Bonham let out of a breath of relief.

“Thank god, someone immune. Go drag your friends outta there.” She pointed a thumb back down the hall. Catra moving in.

Mama Bonham and Huntara exchanged looks as if to say

‘These fuckin’ kids’.

A second later, Catra was pulling them out. Carrying Tactus over her shoulder and dragging Glimmer by the collar.

“THEY’lL BE SO CU-uU-UUUUUTE” Glimmer cried, as Tactus practically drenched Catra’s back in tears.

“Yeah, and loud. And Screaming, and probably be a real menace to their moms.” The Feline rebuttaled, stopping infront of Mama Bonham.

“Yeah, think the sleep deprivation is getting to them. Where’s the beds.”

Bonham dryly pointed to a set of stairs.

“First room on the right.”

“Thanks, COME _ON_ GLIMMER. Stand Up! I am not dragging you up those stairs, I swear to god!” Catra kicks Glimmer in her hip slightly as they near the stairs.

Mama Bonham laughing softly to herself.

“Oh, the people you meet in the middle of the desert…”


	7. Acclimation

* * *

C-100 limped his way through the Prime Citadel. Accompanied by two guards, as was customary for anyone deemed of high enough importance to walk through these halls.

He found it odd, since typically two guards also meant that the individual wasn’t trustworthy. Wondering if this had anything to do with his survival during the breakout.

He grit his teeth as his leg acted up. It had been nearly a decade now by this point, when a single shot fired by an Aviarian had punched a hole straight through, ending his career as a Sergeant in the field.

Most clones would be put down the moment they had been so severely injured, but the war with the Aviarian’s was costly and required some re-evaluations of previous procedures, and Prime knew that better than anyone.

It was unheard of to let any one clone be considered as more then just another brother, but ranks needed to be filled. Orders needed to be delegated, and great as Prime’s brilliance was, even he could not personally assign orders and be in every body at any one time.

A second’s delay in orders could cause a break in the line. The hivemind was strong, but they needed to be able to adapt.

C-100 was one of the first clones to receive upgrades, and a new designation of rank. His tactics were unorthodox, but they kept the peace among the men. Morale was kept up, and further zealotry to their lord Prime was maintained.

But still, there were lingering doubts in C-100’s mind, such as why Prime had never saw fit to have him fixed, or place his memories in a new body. He still had one of the older models, and unlike most he was starting to show his age. Gaining wrinkles, and even scarring on some parts of his body.

If he was so important, then why treat him this way? The question plagued C-100 for many nights until the conclusion struck him one day.

Prime was afraid.

All the tweaks to individuality and genetical differences in clones made him worry. Necessary to adapt in battle, and to avoid any of the dirtier tactics the Aviarians had used, but still a threat to him.

He had less control over the clones then ever, and C-100 was one of the few exceptional soldiers that must’ve made him spend sleepless nights in worry.

That was why he had not received repairs before now. Keep them injured and weak, and your odds of dealing with them should they try to overthrow you increase. Basic war strategy for occupation.

But the supposition wasn’t important for C-100. Prime could have any number of reasons to have called him forward, which meant that it did him no use to wonder about it until Prime explicitly told him.

The throbbing ache almost made him long for the old days when Prime could just beam himself directly into one of their heads at a moment’s notice. Another of the advantages they had to change in the name of safety.

All it took was one single successful hack, and Prime had found himself capable of having his life force potentially forced into any clone body.

Such an event had scarred Prime, mentally. The greatest loss of control he had ever faced, and perhaps that is why he had decided to keep C-100 around. A threat, yes. But a useful one, and effective against the kind of menaces that concerned him.

Finally, they had arrived at the throne room. The guards stopping in their place infront of the doors.

“What’s the matter with you? Too chicken-shit to come with?” C-100 chided.

“We were not summoned. Only you.” The guard on his left clarified. C-100 snickered.

“Good man. Just following orders, but still using your brain enough to know when you’re needed. Very well. Both of you, resume operations as ordered. I’ll see what His Excellency has to say today.” C-100 waved them off as he limped in.

The clones shrugging with eachother, and walking off to resume their duties.

Prime had his back to the door of his throneroom, as he poured through the many digital texts and screens infront of him. Not bothering to turn around and greet the guest.

“Colonel, glad you’ve arrived.”

C-100 raised an eyebrow, confused.

“I’m sorry, sir?”

“Colonel. Your old rank before that unsightly injury of yours. I do sincerely hope you remember your old rank still. Hate to learn that those genetics you’ve been gifted have such flaws as memory loss so late into your existence.” Prime snidely deflected. Still entirely focused on his screens as he watched through the eyes and camera’s of clones and drones on Etheria.

The view was less interesting now as they had followed his previous orders. Holding steadfast in occupied towns, and some of which taking residence in ruins and abandoned villages. Going as undercover and off the grid as they could, when it came to the Princess’ reach.

“I saw it fit to give you back your rank, considering the pressing times we are approaching. We haven’t had such conflict since…” Prime began. C-100, the reappointed Colonel finishing his sentence for him.

“Since the Aviarian Conflicts. Yes, I’m familiar. But I assure you, your excellency. We will not see a repeat of those events.” The Colonel vowed. Prime turned his many eyed gaze to him.

“Do you think that I am a fool? One who can be swayed by someone sucking up to me? I know what we are facing, and I plan to make the necessary decisions to succeed. Colonel.”

The Colonel lowered his head in reverence, kneeling.

“I did not mean to imply such, Most Exalted One.”

Prime’s mouth curled into a sneer.

“Rise. Colonel. I did not bring you in to praise me. The others are below me enough that I take joy in such. You, are one of the exceptions. Although you have aged poorly, you are still one of the few I take such pride in. Free-Thinking, but still ultimately loyal and understanding of his place in service to me. So, unlike that abomination our other little brother turned out to be.”

The Colonel slowly raised himself up. Taking extra with his bum leg.

“Yes, Lord Prime. Thank you, Lord Prime.”

Prime found his words, spinning on his heel as his tentacled dreadlocks swayed with him. Stepping down to the Colonel’s level to talk.

“That said, I must ask. Why are you still alive, when so many others on that floor died?”

Prime raised a hand, a holographic screen showing the bloodbath of images from what was gathered by clones and transmitted before their death.

A purple beast tearing one in two, one being gunned down in a haze by his own men, The Major’s last vision of the winged princess cutting him in twain. But the last vision was of the Colonel’s, Tactus’ fury coated face with his hands around his throat.

Something softening behind his eyes, before finally the Colonel was sedated by Tactus in an odd act of mercy.

The Colonel had been relieving that scene since it happened. Still in disbelief himself.

“I..I believe that his emotions were swayed.”

Prime blinked, letting a beat pass to let his clear lack of belief in such a statement sink in.

“Emotions. Emotions in an Aviarian, of the Bubo-Strigidaes no less, inclined to do anything aside from ruthlessly and meticulously kill one of my brothers? Now, _now_ you are insulting my intelligence.”

“I showed him kindness, brother. He was very much taken aback by that, and seemed to appreciate it these past few years.” The Colonel pleaded. Prime looking up the files they had on the Aviarian.

“Yes, I see that. Guarded from Ages 19-26,…very formative years for an Aviarian.” He remarked, considering the 120-year-long lifespan of the average Aviarian.

“One could say you almost raised him. Tell me, did you raise him solely so he could escape from this place?” Prime loomed forward, encircling the Colonel.

“No, your excellency. It was a gambit to gain information, I assure you!” The Colonel bowed his head down once more.

“You’ve always been awfully soft with Aviarians, I’ve noticed.”

Prime once again brought up another set of holographic images. Images of the Colonel in his infantry days, withholding fire on fleeing civilians, letting first aid be given to captured enemy soldiers, even once shaking hands with Queen Minerva.

This time it was the Colonel’s turn to get angry.

“Those were done on your orders, Prime. To gain favor with the inhabitants through deception! Every one of their soldiers that willingly stepped down was another 2 of ours that would survive. The lies I told to their queen when we landed, all on your orders!”

Prime did not get angry, like a stern parent he talked down to the Colonel.

“Know. Your. Place. Lest I choose to have the soldiers under your direct command decimated for your insolence.”

The Colonel bit his tongue. They couldn’t afford a decimation now, not during the middle of an invasion. Not with the numbers they had. But Prime was never one to make empty threats, even if it’d be to his own detriment. Killing one-tenth of a platoon to ensure the rest stayed in line was as big of a decision to him as salting one’s food.

Easily done, with the wave of a hand.

“Good. Now that the stakes are set, I know you are something of a romantic on their skills and tactics. So am I, to a degree. Do whatever it takes to end this as soon as possible. If playing nice is what must be done, then do it. So long as you make me victorious.”

The Colonel swallowed what small amount of pride he had.

“Yes, Most Exalted One.”

“If this Aviarian seeks to make a callback to the old days, punish him for his failure to adapt. Existence does not need those, who are incapable of evolving. If he hesitates, punish him. Make him regret giving you mercy, just as I regret showing him and his people mercy.” 

“Yes, Lord Prime.” The Colonel repeated, the only thing being regretted so far was the day he was bestowed free will. The frustration that he had been given enough to feel guilt over his own actions, and fear for his brother’s lives. But not enough to change the course of events. 

“If that’s all understood. Then run along to the new medbay, we have upgrades waiting for you.”

Prime motioned. The Colonel raising his head once again. He had questions left.

“Most Exalted One, what of the Princess Dilemma? The Rumors of this She-Ra? What is to be done there, if her return is true?”

Prime snarled.

“Do not ask questions about matters that are not your concern. I’ve given you your specific task. You are not an expert on the Eternians, I am. Know your place, do your task. I may see you as above the rest, but that does not give you the right to speak back to me. You will be dead from old age long before you will even be capable of grasping the magnitudes of how high I am above you. Now, leave. Before I have entirely lost my patience and rescind your upgrades in exchange for having you summarily executed alongside the rest of your pitiful waste of stock.”

He pointed to the door. The Colonel, hobbled away. Knowing that were he any other clone Prime wouldn’t have bothered to give him such chances. Let alone live this long or receive upgrades.

Prime knew it too, but he felt better about it as he watched the Colonel leave. Soft, as he was. He was still the best he had when it came to working with Aviarians, and giving him the upgrades too was icing on the cake.

Prime glanced at the empty spots where the two guards he usually had were. The winner had been too damaged to return to service, but he would be worth more than the sum of his parts.

Prime, was nothing if not resourceful.

* * *

Tactus awoke, unsure of the time or where he was.

His breath ragged in the overwhelming heat and humidity that accompanied the climate of the desert. He blinked in the darkness of the room he was in. 

His hand went up to his neck, desperately. He needed to feel his broken collar to ground himself. The horrid heat that surrounded him and the softness under him. A shattered collar, the faint sounds of his companions breathing in their sleep. Even more distantly his keen ears could hear their heartbeats in the quiet of this room.

He didn’t need his visor for that, the curse that came with his physiology. He almost was thankful, as he heard their breaths and heartbeats. 

He wasn't in that cold cement and steel room anymore. Though thin, the mattress below him was at least a mattress and not the concrete bench of his cell. The hardness of that bench would be something he’d remember for the rest of his life.

He blinked in the darkness, sitting up, covered in sweat. His heart was still racing from fear, the fear that he was in that awful cell once more. He hadn't dreamed since they left, and that made his anxieties worsen.

Even though he'd prefer to never dream at all, considering the content of hid dreams. He was plagued by nightmares, unachievable desires, and old regrets.

But he was here now. Here in this room.

He let the sheets, or rather, singular sheet, slide between his fingers. The rough burlap fabric was likely taken from an old sack, but right now he needed the stimulation.

The fibers between his fingers itched, as he let the woven stitches cross under his claws. As many anchors as he could grasp on this realm of existence. 

Meditation and hallucination were common in his isolation, but sensory hallucinations like this were too rare. 

An ache of pain surged through his ulna, but once again he took thanks.

His arm was hurting now. Therefore, it must've been injured. His memory told him he had it crushed by a root the day before. Ergo, that was likely the source of his injury. Ergo that had to have been real. Cogito Ergo Sum. He could think, therefore he was.

This was real. The ache was real, though he was unsure if he'd venture far enough to say his memories too had been real. But if he doubted his memories, then he needed to at least grasp the here and now for further proof. That was what he needed to stay sane.

In the dark of the room, he saw flowery patterns adorn the walls. The shadows from the old dusty curtain which covered the window, nailed to the wall. 

The bed he laid on was the bottom bunk of a makeshift bunkbed. The bottom bunk was two halves of an old barrel, with a layer of cushioning from old upholstery. Boards drilled into the sides held up the frame which supported the top bunk above him, which had similar levels of comfort.

The Queen above him shifting in her sleep, springs digging into her side. Her pink wings closed against her back. Feather’s ruffled from her constant stirring.

Across from their set of bunks was Catra, her newly acquired cowboy hat loosely resting over her face like a sleeping mask. Her tail flicking across the dusty wooden floor below them.

Tactus shut his eyes tight, letting a long slow breath enter his lungs. Exhaling almost as slow as he opened his eyes again. He was still in the bed, and in that room.

The hostel room that had been offered to them by the Tortoise.

He flexed his hand, letting the pain wash over him. It had snapped and rehealed within 5 minutes of the injury, but rapid healing always left such soreness. Like over exercising, which he supposed was apt enough.

He hadn’t nearly slept enough, but he needed to get up.

The others still needed their rest, and he needed to stretch to relax. Maybe see if this place had running water for him to take a much-needed shower. He couldn’t imagine any of them smelled that great after their trek through the desert, wearing these same clothes.

He pulled himself to the edge of the bed, sitting up and letting his feet come in contact with the floor. Standing up as silently as he could, the dusty wooden floor and old carpet further cementing him mentally.

He was here. He was capable of making complex and rational thought, this was real. He was awake, and aware. Conscious. Good. All good.

He flexed his fingers, letting his knuckles pop and his wrist loosen. Twisting his back and letting himself become reacquainted with the feeling of being in his own body.

He let his knees bend as he got down on all fours.

A good stretch was what he needed, starting with a planking position, letting his back curl and his weight shift onto his chest. Letting himself find the Locust position.

He couldn’t help but hope that neither of the two of them woke up right now, as he did not want to go through the conversation of why he felt the need to do yoga right now of all times.

But feeling himself through these exercises had kept him sane while in captivity, just as they were now. The bird carefully rolling onto his back. Letting his wings flare out under him as he took a supine position. Twisting his hips and spine until he could almost lift his leg high enough to touch his own wings. Switching legs and doing the same again, finally feeling content enough to completely get up and do whatever he needed to do. 

Cracking his neck as he stood up, letting his wings slowly return to their place nestled and tucked against his back. Taking great care to avoid the squeaky parts of the floorboards as he ambled out the room.

Not able to fully avoid the creak of the door’s hinges, but minimizing it as best he could for the sake of his friends.

The dim light that trickled it’s way in through the cracks in the ceiling and hallway.

The voices of the other people in the Hostel drifted up the stairs. Mama Bonham, Huntara, and Paige.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk to them right now. They were still mostly strangers to them, kind strangers. But strangers, still.

This didn’t help his immediate needs. He felt selfish and rude, not bothering to talk to them but still hoping to use their water.

Or maybe he could rationalize it as considerate? Cleaning up so they wouldn’t have to put up with him being filthy, not that it would be easy to keep clean out here.

Dust accompanying the light through every crack in the walls, the shanty walls seemed to make the wind moan as it crossed the desert. Rattling steel, and subtle creaks. To be falling apart but able to hold together so tight, the shanty was a testament to the people of this town’s strength.

A crude wooden sign with carved in words read “bathroom”, hanging off a nail on the door. It was communal, for all the patrons this hostel was meant to have. But with the events going on in this town, Tactus doubted it was used much by anyone.

The door swayed open like a drunk hanging from a street sign. Loose and barely functional.

The floor was bare metal, and the water heater for the entire place was wedged into a corner next to a tub made from panels of a skiff welded together. The sink was a simple bucket with a hose attached, underneath a reflective piece of metal. The toilet, shockingly enough, was the only thing that seemed to be made for it’s intended purpose. Where the ceramic thing had been plucked from, he’d never know.

It wasn’t royal accommodations, but it was better than nothing.

The soap leftover was liquid, and watered down in a little jug, sitting on a tiny wooden shelf alongside with some freshly cleaned towels.

Tactus double checked that the bathroom door was locked, flipping over the simple latch bolt closed. The last thing he wanted was the potential for someone to walk in. Slowly pulling his trousers off.

He was already doing the math in his head. A conservationist shower. 1 minute getting his entire body soaked, shut off water, 3 minutes to lather self-down completely, 1 more minute to rinse.

Come to think of it, Tactus couldn’t remember the last time he had taken a long shower, or a relaxing bath. Even look in a mirror at himself. Last time he had was before his capture, he hadn’t even had all his headcrest feathers in yet. He was babyfaced nearly that entire war.

With his pants barely past his knees, he glanced to the mirror above the sink. The face that stared back nearly stopped his heart.

For the briefest of seconds he could’ve swore he was looking straight at the face of the Major again. That same face that Prime shared. He squawked in fear, toppling over and slamming against the wall behind him. He sat panting on the floor for a few seconds, as he heard some people react to the noise.

“You alright up there?” he heard one of them, he thought maybe Huntara, shout from down-stairs.

“Fine!” his voice cracked as he responded back. He didn’t even know his collar could make him _do_ that. Hoping sincerely that Glimmer and Catra we’re still asleep.

He tried to get back up, but found his claws had embedded themselves into one of the walls when he had tried to grab it on the way down. Awkwardly pulling his talons out and hoping Mama Bonham wouldn’t notice.

He was still spooked by what he had seen, that grimacing sneering face. Mocking him in that mirror, but this time when he looked, he saw his own face. An odd white smudge from soap scum where his face was. Tactus had almost forgotten he was wearing the Major’s visor still.

He couldn’t believe he had slept with the thing still strapped tightly to his head. Tearing the thing off his face and placing it on the back tank of the toilet. Kicking his pants off and turning the faucet of the sink on.

The water sputtering out, decently clear. In two handfuls he splashed his face with water that was still as hot as the desert. But it was water. Rubbing his eyes with his palms.

He was here now. He was here, he kept remind himself.

He needed a shower, wishing that if he were to take one, he could scrub the memories off too.

* * *

Within a few hours, once everyone had woken up from their long rest, came the time for planning.

Catra and Glimmer had taken care of their own personal cleaning needs as well, with a couple snide remarks from the feline in particular when she had seen the clawmarks on the wall.

It was late into the evening by this point. The whole sleeping during the day idea that had saved them in the desert would need some time to readjust from.

For now though, they needed to get back on their feet before they left for the Edge of the Wastes.

Their clothes were briefly washed to at least remove the smell. They didn’t quite have any other clothes to wear, and trying to makeshift new ones would take too long.

Paige had reassured them that none of the guards in town would mind. Even she wore a dress made from some old Horde uniforms that she had stitched together.

“We’ll have them dried soon enough, and if I’m fine in this, you’ll be fine in that.” The lizard beamed, unintentionally showing off more teeth than she might’ve meant. Paige was a tall and somewhat bulky woman. With one hand missing and a long scar that ran down her head all the way to the end of her snout. The end was slightly bent as if it had broken a few too many times.

She had clearly seen her fair share of fights in her life, which made her calm and friendly nature all the more pleasant.

“We really can’t thank you people enough for all your help.” Glimmer responds, sitting at the table wearing one of Paige’s old dresses. Practically dwarfing her, as she felt like she was wearing a blanket.

Paige lightly squeezed Glimmer’s hand.

“Oh, don’tcha worry bout it, hon. Your boy did right by us, saw that my kids’ll grow up big and strong.”

“Yeah..” Glimmer twiddled her thumbs. She wanted to make small talk, but she felt so guilty about getting help from these people when they already didn’t have much to spare.

Especially as Catra’s previous thoughts still weighed on her mind. About the Princesses not doing enough for people or caring for them when they were outside of their territory.

“Really, you’re all too nice to us. One examination and you’re clothing us, bedding us, and even giving us a ride? Surely there must be more we can do for you all?”

Though the words were nice, Paige would have none of it.

“You hush. Ya’ll did right by us, we do right by you. You wanna do some good? Win this war. I want to still have an Etheria left to raise my kids in.”

“Well, that’s..that’s a given.” Glimmer stammered. She was planning on doing that anyways, but when she looked at the shanty they lived in, and the effort that these people went through just to make it out here, she couldn’t just let that slide. Not without doing more.

“But, when I get home. What if I…I don’t know, saw about getting you folks a nice villa or some land in a place that’s less…hot and dangerous.”

Paige shook her head.

“No, no. We’re well off here, Miss. Lived in the Wastes better portion of my life. Wouldn’t live it any other way. Like I said, just win the war. Worry about the rest of it all later.”

Glimmer still wasn’t satisfied with that answer, but she was crafty as always. She’d do something for them, but a surprise later would be the best way to do it. Hard to argue or reject when it comes out of nowhere and sideswipes them. 

“Okayyy…” Glimmer answered back, feigning disappointment.

Paige looked up to the staircase, wondering why the other two were taking so long picking out some temporary clothes to wear. It’s not like they’d be wearing them all day, maybe a few hours at most. 

“Your lovers are sure taking awhile.” She noted with the utmost of sincerity.

Glimmer felt as if she had punched her in the throat, her face going tomato red.

“We never did anything!” She blurted defensively. Was she really so easy to read that this stranger already knew her feelings?

Paige stared back at Glimmer deadpan, her eyes darting past her for a split second before returning back to holding eye contact.

She didn’t believe Glimmer at all, not from anything she had seen.

“Just a hunch, hon. In the Wastes ya learn to trust ya hunches.” She half-lied. In actuality, she had heard the whole story of what happened second-hand from Huntara. All this talk of survival and depending on eachother, lot of time alone in the desert, even sharing the same sleeping space?

She was thankful that they were given three separate beds upstairs or cleaning would be a nightmare. She sipped on the glass of tea she had on the countertop with smug satisfaction.

Glimmer, however, was skeptical of her supposed reasons.

“There’s nothing going on.” She protested. If she was going to get her feelings out there, she wanted to be the one to do it herself. No interference, this was supposed to be something personal and intimate.

Not to mention the people in question. The Ex-Second in Command for the Horde and a Prince from another world. Gods, it would be a scandal! She was sure her feelings were just mere crushes, but she needed time to find out for herself. Less meddling, the better.

“Mmm.” Paige hummed, letting her eyes flare again as she stared behind Glimmer rather then at her.

“Sup, Sparkles.” Catra announces her presence, halfway down the stairs already.

Glimmer felt her heart drop. Quickly! She needed to take control of the situation _now_. An excuse! That’s what’d work.

“Oh hey we we’re just-“ Glimmer craned her head back as she spoke, her words catching in her mouth as she caught a glimpse of Catra.

Her clothes were being washed, so obviously she wasn’t going to be wearing her coveralls. That’s what Glimmer _naturally_ expected. What she didn’t expect, was for Catra to be wearing _literally nothing_ except for the red duster vest she had gotten in the desert. Wearing it like a sleeveless robe, with her belt being used to hold the thing together.

Glimmer couldn’t see it. But Paige was grinning smugly, not saying a word.

“Catra…why are…”

“Didn’t like the clothing options, decided on this…I’m already _really_ feeling this look, how’re you feeling?” She purred out, her tail tracing down the rail as she walked down.

Glimmer wanted an eyeful, but with how deeply crimson she was blushing, it’d be a dead giveaway. Burying her face in her hands and avoiding even glancing in her direction.

“Good…good.” She muttered out, seeing Paige’s satisfied little smile as Catra took her seat at the table next to Glimmer.

It was odd to be blushing now, when she had already seen Catra entirely naked by this point. But something about covering up enough just to tease made it all the more attractive. The tease of it made her attraction flare up.

After an uncomfortable few seconds, Glimmer wanted to shift the topics to something more manageable. Silently thankful that one more person involved in all this made it easier to avoid her feelings.

“How’s Tactus?” Glimmer questioned. She was legitimately concerned for him, even if she was asking more so as a distraction. He seemed a bit shaken up when she had seen him last.

Catra rolled her eyes, annoyed that once again topics shifted to the Owl.

“He’s fine. Last I checked Huntara was helping him find something that fits.” Catra smirked, not entirely lying. She had seen what he had picked out already to wear. Barely able to keep a straight face.

“Think you’ll enjoy it too.” She adds, biting her knuckle to stop herself from laughing.

Glimmer grimaced in anxious worry. Catra was toying with her, and she knew it. Catra saunters around wearing practically nothing but this leather robe just to get under her skin. If Catra couldn’t even mention what Tactus was wearing, then that just made her heart thump in her chest with fear.

She was flustered _now._ She wasn’t sure if she could take anything else.

The door upstairs creaked open, Huntara was heard first.

“Sorry, it’s all I have. But I think you make that look work, if I’m being honest.”

“Really? Thank you. It’s a bit more bold and upfront then I’d normally wear.”

They continued their conversation down the stairs, and Glimmer reluctantly turned to look as they came down. Not sure if her heart could take whatever it was she’d see.

“Eh, you’re just wearing it for a couple hours.” Huntara retorted with a shrug.

“Still, what the hell. Keep it. It’s too hot for me to wear that anymore.”

Strolling down the stairs, was simply Tactus. In sweatpants. Relief washing over the Queen. Catra had thankfully overhyped it, it seems.

They were the same color of purple as Huntara’s shorts, except maybe a tad less faded. For once, Tactus actually looked comfortable in something, the drawstring on the front not needing to be too thoroughly tightened, they were nearly the same size waist. All the fluff of his feather’s certainly helping.

“Keep it?...Really? Thank you. That’s…the first gift of clothes I’ve gotten in years.” He smiles, looking down at them.

“Hey, no problem.” Huntara pats Tactus on the back, prompting to walk forward.

Catra was already in the process of giggling, biting down on her knuckle harder to suppress the noise. Glimmer couldn’t understand it, they were just sweatpants. What was so funny? Tactus seemed genuinely happy, so what was there to laugh about?

Paige however, seemed to recognize that pair of sweatpants Tactus was wearing.

“Tactus, hon. You mind heading around back and checking with Mama Bonham? Think the repairs to the speeder should be done by now.”

He nodded his head with a grin.

“Yes, of course Miss Paige. I shall get right on that.” He affirms, heading around the table.

As Tactus passed through the dining hall to the backdoor. Finally, Glimmer saw what was the big deal. The experience was so visceral, she felt herself suck in wind as if someone had punched in the guy.

Her teeth gritting in a wince and her eyes beginning to water with tears of laughter.

In big white letters, on the back of the sweatpants, right across Tactus’ ass was the phrase.

“THIS MACHINE

KILLS FASCISTS”

Glimmer wanted to scream, but waited until Tactus had completely left the room. Catra fell apart, rearing her head back in cackles. Paige burying her face in the table with her own howls of amusement filling the house.

“HuNtArA” Glimmer warbled out, through a choked laugh.

Huntara shrugged, feeling no guilt for this.

“He said he liked the message, and the color. Give me a break.” She smirked, chuckling alongside them.

It really wasn’t all that funny, but with how stressful things had been lately, everyone needed some relief now and then.

But their laughter's were cut short, as the door slammed open. Mama Bonham marching in, covered in grease and a furious look about her. Pulling a rag out of her pocket and wiping her face with it, throwing it down at the middle of the table in rage.

“What in the fuck’s so damn funny, huh? HUH?” she fumed. Immediately causing everyone’s amused looks to melt as she stood there. Practically boiling.

When no one dared give the old tortoise an answer, finally she broke. Rubbing the bridge of her snout with a rough hand, taking her glasses off and setting them on the table. She always hated being the bearer of bad news.

“Ladies, we have a problem.”


	8. Deception

The mood in the room had died with the old Tortoise’s sour disposition, and words foretelling the bad news.

“Ladies, we have a problem.”

The Escaped Trio, Huntara, Paige and Mama Bonham were gathered around the table as she laid out the facts.

“I was just doin’ some repairs on the Speeder. I thought the damned thing was runnin’ a tad hot lately. I pop off the engine cover and the autocycler on the radiator coils and coolant sytems are entirely shot. Now I don’t expect none of ya’ to fully understand what I just said, side’s from maybe Paige. But basically, ya’ll ain’t goin’ anywhere till we can get the hunk o’ shit fixed.”

Paige and Huntara grew solemn, Tactus noting their concern adopted such emotions. Glimmer, however, was always the optimistic one.

“So, we get the one part fixed, and we’re good to go right?”

“Glimmer’s right.” Catra asserted, leaning forward in her seat towards the table.

“This is a scavenging town, someone around here has to have a spare piece, right? Or at least something we can jury-rig?”

Paige winced, biting on the end of her metal claw impulsively. Nervously grinding her teeth on the end, before clarifying.

“You three haven’t been outside there yet! They got’s sentries movin’ up and down the street. Our resident scrappers have been booted out, not a person in town who can help you there.”

Mama Bonham rubbed the bridge of her nose, in frustration.

“Well, that’s not entirely true…” she muttered, Huntara slamming her fist down on the table as she figured out who Bonham was implying.

“Mama Bonham, No! Not them. We’re better than that.”

“These folks need help, and I hate Beetle and Belial as much as anyone with a brain does, but if anyone has the goods we need, it’s them.”

Catra raised an eyebrow, she remembered occasional dealings with scavengers, but didn’t know any by name. Especially names such as these, which elicited such reactions.

“Who?”

Paige sighs.

“Beetle the Butcher, and Belial the Two-Faced. They were a plague on this town before the Horde moved in, and still are. They only get by on using brute force, and thievery alongside their trading.”

Tactus’ eyes glistened in the dim light, a peculiar grin on his beak. Finding the word choice interesting.

“Funny names, indicative of species by any chance?”

Paige’s brow furrowed.

“They’re both insects. Why? Does it matter?”

Tactus glanced back to the dinner table, casually plucking a black pepper shaker off.

“If we’re going to be dealing with someone named ‘Belial the Two-Faced’, I wanted some assurance…insurance. Whatever the word is.” He shrugged, pocketing the spices to the other’s confusion.

But Huntara took the reins of the conversation over again.

“No. I don’t care how important them leaving is. We don’t deal with Beetle and Belial. They were Horde Informants before this happened, and the fact they’re still here in town means they probably still are.”

Mama Bonham’s face displayed her discomfort at the suggestion in the first place. She certainly didn’t like it, and that was noticeably clear.

Catra rolls her eyes.

“Any other options, Meathead? Cause it sounds like this town doesn’t have a whole lot going on for it anymore.”

Huntara leaned down to the reclined feline, getting in her face.

“I’m trying to protect you, asshole.”

“Yeah, without offering much up in the way of other options.”

Glimmer, wanted to deescalate things, but Catra did have a point.

“Huntara, it’s not like we’re going to waltz up there with a sack full of cash and expect simple best wishes. We plan on being careful.”

Tactus found himself confused by the word ‘cash’. Still unaccustomed to everything this new world did, he decided to ask Glimmer what she meant later. An idea struck him, that rather than make trouble, there was the better option of recruitment.

“Huntara, if I may suggest, why don’t you accompany us? You seem to know this place the best. If we have no other options then to consort with them, then your experience should prove the most advantageous.”

The Owl did bring up a good point, but the proud warrior couldn’t shake her disgust at having to work with the two described, arms crossed. Her disappointed leer was met by the stern eyes of the tortoise.

“You’ll do this, Huntara. Is that mighty clear, or do ah’ need ta’ make sure the sense is drilled into ya’ head?”

She bowed her head, and without a second thought she affirmed her orders.

“Yes, Mama Bonham. I’ll take them tomorrow.”

Glimmer was somewhat surprised. She could tell that Huntara had a high degree of respect for Bonham, especially to accept being talked to in such a way by her.

Her mind wandered as she tried to imagine what was the full extent of their relationship. Briefly considering that maybe Mama Bonham had raised Huntara, before remembering that didn’t quite make sense. Huntara being Ex-Horde after all.

Then again, this old woman just had that vibe to her. Someone with wisdom and grit. Once again, Glimmer hoped she’d be the same in her old age. A granny that was tough as nails, with a big rifle. Granted there was the likelihood of biological immortality, just as her mother had.

‘I just might be the same my entire life.’ She thought, her fingers drifting over the back of her own palm to feel the smoothness. A weird thing to think about now, but sometimes she found herself so easily distracted.

Catra too, was curious about Mama Bonham. The way she talked had this odd sense of purpose to it. This confidence that said she had reminded everyone that she had been fighting for longer then most have been alive. She didn’t strictly have the ex-military vibe that she got from say, Huntara, or Tactus. There was something rougher about it. That perfect blend of casual hardiness that rode the line to what made a good leader.

If the other rebels were like this in person, they just might’ve had a chance to win. Though Catra felt it in the pit of her gut that this woman might be the highlight of her experience with anyone anywhere in the rebellion. At least, accounting for personal taste.

“Good. Good.” Bonham nodded slowly, getting out of her chair.

“I know you three just woke up, but it’s about to be dinner time. Not sure what ya’ll do during the night. But try to avoid using electricity if you can. Trying to conserve fuel cells in here. Every hour a bulb is left on is another plasma bolt that’s not going into a Horde skull.”

She added, crossing past the table like a general at a war room meeting. As she delegated duties,

“Huntara, you’re on cook duty for dinner. Paige, check on the clothes. Tactus, could you accompany an old woman real quick?” She asked, holding her elbow out.

Tactus, ever the gentleman was quick to get up. Linking his elbow with hers.

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Good boy. Going to need your help grabbing some games off the shelf in the backroom.” She replies, a bit giddy. She hadn’t had anyone new over to play cards with in over a month, and she was going to sweep these fools under the table.

* * *

The Trek across the desert had been long and hard. There wasn’t a whole to work with to lead them here, but Adora and Micah knew what to look for. Survival in the desert meant the need for careful planning and energy conservation. Signs of which they had found along the path to Blister.

Adora had briefly heard of such a town in a report about a year and a half ago. It was the only real site of civilization aside from the odd bar out here. The signs of the sleeping pits, leftover trash. They had all pointed to one direction that the trio had been heading in. Adora was confident they were sure to find Glimmer soon.

Micah, an excellent sorcerer, and skilled in tracking as well, had been equally steadfast in his resolve as more evidence piled up. His daughter was alive, and they were going to meet soon. But immediate matters needed to be settled.

The King pulled out the datapad and passed it off to Adora. She stared at it curiously, the desert heat having somewhat dazed her.

“Contact the Blood Arachnia party. We need a status update.”

Adora, with an affirmative nod plucked the Datapad from his grasp and began dialing.

“Yes sir.” She barked out, the datapad’s loading screen taking a minute before a connection was established. They had been conservative with the use of the datapad, considering the sun and need for a charge. But updates were a necessity.

“HELLOOOOO Princesses!” Entrapta’s voice bellowed from the other side of the line. The inside of the Blood Arachnia was visible, as Scorpia was leaned against the backwall with Bow, who was still lying on the ground.

“And King Micah.” Entrapta added, immediately going into update mode.

“OK OK! So, I was able to convert the fuel cells on the Bomber to work with the Blood Arachnia, got the lights and air recyclers on, retrofitted the main gun…”

“Entrapta…” Adora began, she knew it was difficult to get a word in edge wise with her sometimes. So, she wanted to start digging in asap.

“Had to learn the new computer language for the ship, stole the Friend-Or-Foe code for later, borrowed a ton of tech for future research! Helped Scorpia set up a timer and scanning device to keep an eye on Bow’s condition,”

Adora winced at the last remark, and as useful as that all was, transport updates needed to be heard.

“Entrapta, but did you fix the Blood Arachnia?”

Entrapta stopped her speech, blinking twice. Putting the hood of her mask down with her hair, turning her head away.

“Not quite yet. But give me a couple hours and I might be able to funnel enough energy to at least get this baby to hover.”

“That will have to do, Entrapta.” Micah Settled. His feet sore from the walk. He had been active on Beast Island, but the terrain was so different here that he found himself tiring out faster than expected. A ride in anything would be welcome.

But Adora had more questions than just the status of the ship.

That question was an obligatory one when it came to their continued survival. But now came the more personal matters.

“Could you pass the comm to Scorpia? I want to know how Bow’s doing.”

“Oh, just one second!” Entrapta jubilantly says, the camera’s view shaking as she brings it over.

Scorpia coming into view as she turns the datapad in her hands.

She’s still very clearly tired, bags under her eyes, her hair untamed and a mess. But she kept that steadfast smile and optimism that seemed to be trademark for her.

“Force Captain Sc- I mean Regular Rebellion Captain Scorpia, reporting in, Sir Ma’am!” she bellows out with a salute.

Adora could see she was weary, but respected her maintenance of rank and professionalism. Despite the circumstances surrounding them, and her adherence to being unquestioningly helpful since her transition to the Rebellion.

“At ease, Soldier. What’s Bow’s status?”

Scorpia’s eyes drifted back to the unconscious Bow for the briefest of seconds before returning to face Adora.

“I’ve been keeping him under with painkillers. He woke up the other day and was in too much pain. Kept on a supply of antibiotics to stave off infection, frequent wound rewrappings every few hours. But…” Scorpia’s face seemed to turn dark, as if there was something she didn’t want to say.

Micah was first to notice.

“What’s wrong?”

Scorpia took a deep sigh.

“His wounds started to smell. Sweet, like molasses. I’m not the brightest when it comes to medicine, but I think that means infection, and he’s running a fever…I don’t…” Scorpia’s eyes began to tear up as she spoke. She was on the verge of caving in, and try as she might her composure was waning.

“I’m trying to help him fight it. I’ve been keeping him fed, his needs taken care of. But…there’s so much sand, and I was worried it might’ve gotten in the wound. I don’t…” Her voice began to crack, and Adora felt herself on the verge of breaking alongside her.

She could see that stress on her face, the way she had worked so hard to do something and make such a difference. Scorpia was a mess right now, and Adora just wanted to tell her it’d be ok. To tell her to rest and take a break.

But she was too distraught over Bow. Her best friend might die from an infection, Because she lost herself as She-Ra, because she had to fix Glimmer’s mistake. A terrible decision she had made, because they hadn’t worked hard enough to convince her otherwise. It was an endless spiral of and slippery slope of doubt and pain, that Adora found herself on the edge of sliding headfirst down.

Entrapta had paused from her work and Scorpia felt herself suddenly grabbed in an awkward side hug by her. The scientist was never the best with people, but she didn’t need a chart or anyone to guide her to know that Scorpia needed help right now.

“You did everything you could.” She pleaded.

Micah put a hand on Adora’s shoulder for comfort, seeing the tension on her face. He was the oldest here, and needed to take charge. If the blame would fall on anyone, he wanted it to be on him.

A Veteran of the Horde War before most of them were born, and their failure to win that war lied on him. His capture and the fall of the original rebellion. His mistake, his cross to bear, and if he took charge now, his mind could be at ease.

“Scorpia, Up the dosage on Bow’s medication. Entrapta, put all efforts into getting that ship online. Don’t do anything too hasty to Bow, unless it’s absolutely necessary. But if you can get to us first, I’ll do what I can for him. Is that clear?”

Scorpia gave a weak little salute through her tears.

“Yes sir.”

“Over and out” Micah shut the comm off unceremoniously. Tapping his staff against the ground with a certain roughness and renewed vigor. Making longer strides and digging his heel into the sand.

Adora keeping up with him with her own march. Her mind was clouded with worry. Doubts over whether they’d even find Glimmer, and if Bow would lose his hand had intensified. Now there was a very likely chance he might die. That look of silent magnitude on Micah’s face. She knew it was only right to match his pace.

“Come on Adora! We must move with purpose. Now more than ever.”

“You seem to have a plan, King Micah?”

“Yes!” He proclaimed with a flourish of his staff.

“I didn’t want to share it with them. I’d hate to get their hopes up if I’m wrong. But I feel that I’m write.” He confided with confidence, his eyes narrowing in the dark. Sparks seeming to radiate from his hands, the hair on his knuckles standing up as his passion flowed.

He spoke with the authority one would expect from a king.

“The magic I felt when I stepped into that crashed ship was otherworldly. In that area where Glimmer was healed. It was strong, but uniquely potion based. I could feel it. She had help, that lizard or raptor person she was with. If they’re capable of that…”

Adora’s azule eyes widened in the dark.

“They could save Bow.” She concluded.

Micah giving her a half-crazed smile and tapped the end of his nose. The universal code in charades of ‘you got it’.

Adora glanced down at Micah’s trot. If time was of the essence. She knew what she had to do, breaking into a sprint.

Micah laughing as he followed with her.

“Easy Adora! I’m an old man now!”

“No time!” Adora panted as she ran. That steady quick pace. Arms raised up and down in smooth even motions. Eyes on the horizon as the sand passed by under her boots.

She skid to a stop, as across the sandy waves and dunes she saw it. That pillar rising high into the sky with it’s neon green glow. Bathing the desert in it’s ominous light. It stuck out like a sore thumb, a looming threat. Perched to signify superiority and dominance over this land.

Perched, right over the little scrap town of Blister. Her heart fell and she wanted to collapse. To come this far into the desert, put this much on the line, only to have to go into enemy territory to look for Glimmer when she might already be lost again.

Micah stopped beside her in somber spirits.

“Dammit.” He cursed under his breath.

Putting a hand up to his chin in idle contemplation.

“Ok Kiddo, things just got more complicated. Fighting our way in is out, asking around the normal way in the town is out too…Think we’re a little too recognizable too. Ideas?”

Adora’s brow furrowed, trying to match Micah’s look as she put a hand up to her own chin. Feeling somehow deep down that if she could mimic this, she might be able to come up with the right idea or gameplan.

Too recognizable…

She snapped her fingers in realization.

“We go in with a disguise…” She speculated. Micah grinning and tapping his nose again.

“Got it kiddo.”

Adora nodded wildly, pulling out her sword with a hefty one handed draw. Brandishing it in Micah’s general direction, pointed at his face.

“OK. Here’s the plan. We shave your beard, and I use some of the bandage glue from our medical supplies to make myself a fake beard and eyebrows for a disguise! And they won’t recognize you fr-“

Micah cut Adora’s crazy plan short. Lightly pushing the sword away from his face with a finger.

“OR. And I’m just saying here. I use my illusionary magic to change what we look like.” Micah posits, letting the magical energy crackle between his fingers for emphasis.

“Oh.” Adora sheepishly replies. She had completely forgotten that aside from Micah’s general incredible magic capabilities, he was an illusionist first and foremost.

She snapped her fingers again, getting another idea.

“OH. Ok, hear me out. I like that idea, but I know what’ll _REALLY_ sell it.”

Micah was pleasantly taken aback, curious to see what she’d say.

“I’m all ears.”

* * *

“I hate guard duty.” G-782 mutters, rubbing his eyes with the back of his palm. Blinking hazily as the sun’s rays seemed to beam directly into his eyes. The last remnants of the day hellbent on making his shift worse.

“Do you always moan and complain?” G-781 chastised, leaning on the edge of the concrete barrier at the front of Blister. Checking his rifle and working a tiny brush on the sides of it.

“Gotta fill the time with something. Don’t know why they got our pale asses out here getting baked by the sun. Nobody comes through here anymore aside from these crazy ass traders.”

“Pssh.” G-781 tsked. Not even looking up.

“What?”

“That’s exactly why we’re out here. Make sure none of them bring in anything suspicious, or that could ruin everything we got going here. You know Prime needs his outposts.”

“Right right. Outposts that are totally inconspicuous, cause they have big fuck-off white towers jutting out of them to let everyone know where we are. When we should be laying low right now. The plan here is botched.”

G-781 raised his head from his rifle, putting his finger against G-782’s chest.

“Have, some _GODDAMN_ faith. Brother. We have contingency plans for this, and our role here isn’t about questioning orders. It’s about keeping these sacks of DNA in line and furthering the expansion. Prime needs all the damned outposts he can grasp for our mission to be successful. Last thing I need is some damned _HERETIC_ not pulling his weight around here.”

G-782 backed up, deciding to keep his mouth shut. Heretic was a strong word to so casually throw around. The kind of dirty word clones fight to the death over. But the important thing was not talking back, so as not to look even guiltier.

But he suddenly grew smug as he saw how G-781, once again, meticulously felt the need to polish and clean his rifle.

“Rifle actin’ up again, 81?”

He squinted, turning around in his chair so he could try to ignore G-782’s smug grin looming over him.

“I never liked the change to the modular rifle line.”

There it was, the opening to change the subject. This would be the third time this week he’d gotten G-781 onto this topic. But for once, he was glad. A scheme forming in his brain.

“You’ve been over this. I still think it’s unfair for you to have a preference when you weren’t even alive when the switch happened.”

“Look. I’ve read the schematics and the field reports. The Old ‘MB Arm-Mounted’ variant rifles were bulky. Overheating issues were worse, sure. But you can’t deny that power! Less moving parts, less chance for dirt and mud to get caught in it.”

G-782 rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, but it was also a big mounted target. One hit from a savage with a frag grenade, and it’s one big ‘kill me’ target. Those things exploded like crazy! They weren’t a benefit; they were a hazard.”

“IT’S A MEGABUSTER. Yes, it’s a hazard! It’s a big fuck-off arm cannon. It was badass! Some of the later designs even had the voice command thing where you could say ‘Grenade’ and it’d repeat back ‘grenade’ and then boom! GRENADE LAUNCHER. These crap rifles?”

G-781 waved his rifle in G-782’s face.

“These things have so many moving parts I gotta clean them so when sand gets in the fucking barrel, it doesn’t turn to fucking glass and throw off my shooting.”

“Sure, but these are lighter, and some of the models have the barrel that allows you to change firing type too. Not a grenade launcher, but the multishot and rapidfire options are amazingly useful. Like last week when those…fuck what was the term for them again?”

“We shot a lot of savages last week. You gotta be more specific.”

“Not the feral ones. The ones in the crappy false horde outfits. I can’t remember the word we used. It’s on the tip of my tongue.”

“I know what you’re talking about, why’s it matter?”

“No. It does. I’m not going to be able to just sit here for another 16-hour shift in peace without knowing the word.”

“Hollows. Because they’re like a painted vase. They wear our colors, but inside it’s not us.”

“HOLLOWS!” G-782 exclaimed in satisfaction.

“Yes, well those. When the big one with the mane tried to fight back, if my rifle wasn’t set to rapidfire he would’ve stoved my head in with his fist. I barely got to fire off three rounds through him before he advanced a whole meter.”

“Feh.” G-781 scoffs.

“I don’t have to enjoy the new rifles, simply because they help fools like you survive. Should’ve just put the round through him on sight.”

G-782 narrowed his eyes, grinning smugly.

“It was orders, had to get the genetic info first. Hmm. Constant disagreement and criticizing of Prime’s decisions, believing you know better. Awfully heretical of you.”

G-781 didn’t say a word for an uncomfortable few seconds.

“Guess that makes us even.” He shrugs, going back to cleaning his weapon.

G-782 snickers, looking up and into the dark night. His keen eyes noticing motion approaching them. Two figures against the blackened sky.

He clicked his tongue twice, catching G-781’s attention. G-781 hopping to his feet, rifle at the ready alongside G-782 as the odd pair neared.

G-781’s voice growing stern as he took the lead. Adopting the typical voice one uses when in such a role. Commanding and firm, with the hint of zealotry and religious fervourance as to be expected from any soldier in Prime’s army.

“Name yourself wanderers and make yourselves known to Prime!”

The pair of figures neared, the light catching on their faces. Two lizards of the Crimson Wastes. The bigger one was green with a cracked fang poking out. The shorter was red, with a more snakelike snout. Thin and rounded, their eyes glowing a distinct yellow.

The bigger one hobbled forward, suddenly sputtering and slurring out.

“Ah’m just tyrnna get hoooooomeee mister guard maaaan…” He murmured through a drunken drawl. Seeming to barely be able to stand.

“Yeaaaaah, jussss’ jusssst let ussss through maaan. I’m trying to *hic* get home anna I reaaally needta pee…” the red snake-like lizard spoke, with a not so subtle hiss that seemed to be compulsory. Equally as intoxicated.

Both the clone guards shared brief looks of confusion, G-782’s nose scrunched up as he could smell the alcohol seemingly emanating off the pair, with an odd sour smell that made him think the red lizard had already pissed themselves.

Deciding that this was a very unusual situation. A convergence would need to be done.

“You two wait right here. One moment.” G-781 ordered, the Red lizard snorting with laughter and leaning on the Green lizard, who swayed with the added weight. Almost toppling over.

The pair of clones huddled together to discuss the proper measures to do in hushed whispers.

“I have no idea who they are, you?”

“Please, I can barely tell the bug ones apart, let alone the lizard ones.”

“They might still be a threat. Should we shoot’em?”

“82, they’re intoxicated. Alcoholism falls under pre-existing condition. They’re null for a round of testing, but are just necessary enough to keep around. ‘As many drains on the town’s morale and supplies as possible’, that’s the orders. We gotta let’em through.”

“But what if they’re faking?”

“Have you _SMELLED_ them?”

“Believe me, I couldn’t _NOT_ smell them, but what if they are?”

“Then the guards inside’ll pick’em off and find them by tomorrow. We have too many eyes inside for anyone dangerous to go unnoticed.”

A new voice suddenly entered the huddle. The red lizard had gotten bold and placed a hand on one of their shoulders. Letting out a tiny drunken laugh before she spoke.

“Howsssabout ya point me to the reshtroom ssssonny?”

“GAH”

“BY PRIME’S WILL!” 

The Two clones shrieked in utterly flabbergasted surprise at the lizard’s suddenly appearance in the fray. As if she had teleported, or been there the entire time.

G-781 was first to collect himself, stamping his boot into the ground.

“You may pass, but next time we won’t be so polite.” He quickly announces. Wishing he had thought of something better to say as the two lizards stumble in.

The green one giving a bow, nearly falling over before the red one pulled him back up.

“Thank you kind sirsh! I’ll bring ya a cashe or two next time!”

He stumbled on past the gate, linked arm in arm with the other lizard as the two walked arm in arm. Singing some old shanty as he walked on.

“Rooooolll~ the ol’ chariot along, we’ll roll~ the ol’, chariot along!”

The clones were captivated by the confusingly jubilant prance of the odd pair. G-781 shook his head as he watched them walk past and in, recentering his focus to any potential newcomers.

“I will never understand the appeal to drinking.”

G-782 gave a shrug.

“I mean if I could be as happy and foolish as that, I can’t say I blame them.”

* * *

The pair rounded a corner, finding an alleyway not far from the gate, inbetween a pair of shanties. The town was surprisingly well defined, a system of road running through the town. Well beaten and well tread. The sand compacted, and creating a decent terrain and foundation.

The Green lizard’s voice trailed off in his song, decreasing his volume when he felt he had adequately left the earshot of any nearby clones.

The rusted metal walls, mixed with packed sand homes enclosing around them. The town was dark, with the only lights coming from faint lamps run by generators and the occasional reflectionary glow off of metal. Green tinted from the massive spire.

With a quick and nervous glance over the shoulder, the smaller lizard checked to see that they weren’t in eyeshot of anyone either.

“I think it worked.” She hissed out.

“Acting drunk was a good idea. You were entirely right. They wanted as little to do with us as possible.” The larger lizard replied with no small amount of admiration.

“Thank you, your highnessss oh that’ssss weird. Can we drop the disssguissesssesseses” Adora found herself incapable of avoiding the tendency to hiss as she spoke.

Micah put his finger to Adora’s forehead, tracing a quick rune. The rune glowing and descending down her body, removing the disguise with it. Micah felt the need to explain yet again what the spell was.

“This is called a Glamour spell. Quite useful back in the day.”

He disclosed, opting to intentionally leave the information of what he used it for omitted. Now was not the time to go into detail of the sheer number of times he attempted to access restricted sections of the Mystacor library for ‘adults-only’.

The generally agreed upon rule, being that if one could produce a glamour effective enough to bypass the magical dispellment charms on the doorways, then the sorcerer would be worthy enough to study the texts and materials meant for older students anyways.

That was neither here nor there, but they were fond memories for Micah as he dropped his own Glamour. Yawning to feel his muscles as they went back to normal.

“Never like the new teeth. Always feels weird.”

Adora suddenly realized a flaw in their plan.

“Wait. What will we do in the morning? Use another glamour?”

Micah, realizing he had made a small oversight looked around in the alley they were in. Finding trashbags and other refuse.

“Ok. Idea. Adora, we blend in as the one thing any one of these soldiers would walk right by without giving a second thought.” He proposes, ruffling up his hair briefly, getting on his knees with the rest of the garbage that had been crudely thrown into the alley.

“A beggar.”

“What?” She asks incredulously, as Micah roots around through a trashbag, pulling out a mostly empty burlap sack and dusting it off. It was as sobering of a sight as possible, which Adora was only just now objectively starting to appreciate.

The King of Brightmoon, alive after 20 years, a famous sorcerer, father to one of her best friends. Here he was, rooting around through the trash like a feral animal looking for something to make a disguise out of, when just moments before they had made an incredible disguise purely out of magic. So naturally, Adora rose the question.

“Why don’t we just use more magic?”

“Because, Adora. Magic costs energy, which I can’t hold up all night and day tomorrow. I mean I can, but it would be very exhausting, when I may need that magic for combat tomorrow. Besides, always could use a lesson in adaptation.”

Micah exposits as he slips on the burlap sack over his body, cutting a hole for his head. Suddenly ‘oohing’ in delight as he found a little tin of boot polish. Cracking it open and taking a scrap of cloth and using the frayed end to stipple little splotches onto his face to appear like flecks of grime. Using a tiny shard of metal from an old aluminum can as a mirror.

“Come on Adora, it’s like applying makeup. You’ve applied makeup before right?” He queries, grabbing a handful of sand and closing his eyes. Patting some of it onto his face to give the grime texture.

Adora, had put on makeup a grand total of two times in her entire life. Once was just some eyeliner for Princess Prom, and once was a full makeover given to her by Glimmer when she had passed out first during one of their sleepovers.

Both times, she had hated it. Both times had been because of Glimmer’s insistence. She let out a deep sigh as she continued to watch the King pick through the trash. But both Glimmer and Bow were depending on her, and with a deep sense of internal frustration, she found herself kneeling down in the muck to join him in making their disguises.

Her hair was already messy from having her ponytail blown off the other day, along with her hair tie.

Adora didn’t want to cover her face in makeup. That was a huge no, for her. Especially the filthy gritty look Micah was going for, which granted he was shockingly good at. He had somehow made himself so physically different seeming.

The stippled boot polish effect had provided a dark color to act as shading for the sand he applied, as well as just the right amount of adhesive combined with his sweat. Giving the illusion he was covered in far more dirt and had spent who knows how many hours sitting in the sun or one place. 

Adora found some long strand of cloth, maybe an old shawl, or curtain. She drew her sword, cutting it into long strips and using it to wrap around her face. Her skin was pale as it was, and the time in the desert had made some of her skin red and tender.

This would not only hide who she was, but at least protect her skin from receiving any further sunburns. Not to mention obscure her general shape.

She remembered a token of wisdom from an old class in the Horde on camouflage. Passed onto her by Kyle of all people. It was the one class he was ever good at, so maybe that’s why the information stuck with her so long. The surprise of how insightful it was. 

‘The point of camo isn’t to make people think you’re a rock or a tree, it’s to just make people not tell whether or not a person is even there at first glance. You need to hide your shape.’

Adora didn’t need to see what she looked like, as she found herself grabbing whatever junk she could get her hands on that made sense.

“How’s this?” Adora questioned, Micah giving her a thumbs up in approval as he examined her disguise.

“Impressive” He comments. She had taken some scraps of metal and fashioned them onto her wrists with rope to act like bracers. Taking an old blanket and some loose string and turning it into a decent enough disguise poncho.

“Thanks…mostly just wanted to cover this old thing.” She remarks, adjusting her old red jacket under her poncho.

It had been rough crossing the wastes in it, with all the heat. But she couldn’t bear to leave it.

Micah smiled, leaning up against the wall.

“It’s too late to go knocking door to door searching for Glimmer. Suspicious looking too. We’d better catch some shuteye while we can get it.”

Adora felt weak, reminded of the mininaps they had taken just to make it across the desert with minimal time wasted. Changing shift after an hour. Her knees were wobbily, and almost involuntarily she sat across from Micah.

She landed roughly, using the back wall of the shanty behind her for back support.

Micah curled up with his stuff, not wanting to say it. But regretting not putting his makeup on in the morning rather then before he went to sleep. Sleeping in the makeup might improve it’s grody look at the least.

Adora felt oddly hollow in the dark of the alley. Glimmer and Catra were probably in this same town hidden somewhere. Sleeping soundly, or, as she feared, maybe back in Horde Custody.

“King Mi-“ she uttered, pausing as she was interrupted by a soft snore. Micah had fallen asleep faster than her, and now she felt truly alone. With all her thoughts of insecurity and dread for the coming morning.

Her eyes blinking slow as exhaustion overtook her.

“I’m here…” She breathes out, hoping that Glimmer, and maybe even Catra could hear her.

“I’m here…finally I’m here.”


	9. The Town of Blister

Morning had come for the town of Blister, and so had the time for action.

Glimmer, Catra, Tactus and Huntara had prepped themselves for the days surveying. They would no longer refer to themselves by their real names once they were outside, and would become Stardust, Battlecat, Kowl, and Rose, respectively.

Their disguised outfits would be necessary.

“Sorry again about your shirt, Your Highness. But we couldn’t get the stains from the Prickly Pear juice out of the fabric.”

Paige apologized, but Glimmer wouldn’t hear it.

“I didn’t really wanna keep that outfit anyways. But as long as the pants are still fine, I think I’ll keep those for now.”

Paige shrugged and tore the top half of the jumpsuit off as casually and easily as she would tear paper. She wanted her guest to at least look presentable, even if it’d be under a poncho. Quickly offering up a solution.

“You can borrow one of my tank tops. Might fit you a bit big but…”

Spontaneously, Glimmer lunged forward and hugged Paige around the waist. Happy to show her appreciation for the woman.

“You have been so kind to us, I can’t thank you enough.”

Paige returned the show of affection with her own bearhug that forced the wind out of the Queen. Nearly snapping her in two.

“It’s been an honor.” She brightly beamed. Letting the Queen go, and handing her the scrap of jumpsuit that previously been her top.

“Here, keep a hold of it. I doubt you princesses have to worry about it as much, but out here you try to avoid throwing things away. You never know when you’ll need a rag.”

Glimmer took it gratefully. It was true that those worries weren’t very-common for her back in Brightmoon, but resourcefulness was a necessity, now. She probably would’ve thrown it away on reflex, but she heeded Paige’s words.

“Thank you.” She muttered, folding up the always surprisingly light and thin fabric and stuffing it into the pocket of her pants. 

One tanktop later, her disguise was ready again.

Poncho, Goggles, Scarf, and the metal splint Tactus had made for her back when they had crashlanded.

The goal for each disguise, was of course to neither seem like themselves, nor seem to catch the Horde guards attention.

Tactus wore his tarp cloak, putting on his old Horde uniform pants. Not wanting to get his recent ‘gift’ dirty. He had taken up a stick to use as a cane, hunching over to make himself seem smaller. With his face almost entirely hidden underneath his cloak, to any passerby they’d think he was just an old man with a bad back. Barely taller than Glimmer at his hunched stature. His medical bag still on his person, though he had struggled with the internal debate of where to store the vaccine and plant samples boxes.

The well-designed nature had thankfully still preserved them even despite the heat that would ordinarily spoil such precious materials.

Feeling it would be disgustingly irresponsible to bring them with him into the Town, should anything happen to him, Tactus entrusted them to Mama Bonham. The hardy old woman took hold of them, fully understanding of their importance.

“I will guard them with mah’ very life!” She vowed, leaving to put them away in a safe place in her home until his return. Making the Owl feel somewhat at ease, though he knew that he’d feel compelled to check on them again as soon as possible.

Catra was back in her coveralls, vest, goggles, and cowboy hat. Borrowing one of Tactus’ arm slings from his medical bag. Wearing it on her left arm with her little hatchet carefully tucked in. Able to be pulled out at a moments’ notice.

Then finally there was Huntara, who had put on an eyepatch, along with a hooded cloak of her own to hide her head and tattoos. Even applying makeup to the wrinkles on her face to make them seem deeper and more numerous. She seemed to age another 20 years from such a small adjustment.

With any luck, They’d blend right in with the local flavor.

Injured, unassuming, and hopefully unmolested by the clone’s prying eyes. 

“You sure this’ll work?” Catra questioned, not enjoying the sacrifice of full arm function for the sake of the illusion.

“Anyone injured, sick or otherwise fails to meet their standards for ‘test subjects’ is practically invisible to these pricks.” Huntara exposited.

“Sounds about right.” Tactus agreed. Disgusted that once again the Horde was resorting to such appalling tactics. He could almost appreciate the brutal logic of it, had he less of a conscientious aversion to such acts.

Mama Bonham brought forth a small sheet of paper, entrusting it to Glimmer.

“I wrote down the name fo’ the parts. Seein’ as I figure ya’ probably already forgot the name, didn’tcha?”

Glimmer wanted to refute this, but Bonham was right on the money. Pocketing the note.

“Thank you, that should be everything, right?”

“Should be.”

Huntara snorted out.

“Lead the way, ‘Rosie’.” Catra snarked, leaning against the wall by the front door. Huntara rolled her eyes, stopping infront of the door and giving Catra a light slug to the shoulder.

“Come on people. Move out.”

* * *

The sun greeted the disguised band of Interlopers. Blinding them temporarily as the town during the day finally came to view.

The hot desert sun letting its warmth ooze through the fabric of their clothes. The sights of awnings over doorways lining the sandy path into the center of town. Commotion of foot falls and voices filling the air, and the slow trill of some stringed instrument drifting down from the marketplaces. The town remained busy despite the occupation, but even just from the first few steps one could already spot how the occupation had taken its toll.

There were clone guards walking in pairs up and down streets. Rifles in hand, shock batons in holsters. The Elderly holding the hands of young children and holding them close, parents nowhere to be seen. The air held an unshakeable lack of ease, that almost seemed to penetrate as deeply as the inescapable heat.

Huntara seemed almost mournful as she led them forward, along the streets. 

“Was never quite the Valley of the Lost, but this place used to be decent enough.”

Huntara commented. She had already spent plenty of time coming to terms with the place, but for our recently escaped trio, they took the sights and sounds in differently.

Walking through the streets intensified Glimmer’s feelings of utter uselessness.

For the majority of her life, and to most of Etherians, she too had believed the Crimson Wastes were a barren wasteland devoid of any and all intelligent life. Yet everything in the past few years had saw fit to destroy such a notion.

How could she, the princess alliance and their subjects have ignored the glaring proof of life past their kingdoms? Undeniable, unquestionable and glaring proof that not only did people live past their borders, but lived in such desperate conditions.

The people were neglected, and left to fend for themselves out here. She hadn’t even heard of the town of Blister until barely a few days prior, and yet the town was tragically occupied by the Etherian Horde for over a year. How could she, call herself a good ruler when she wasn’t even aware of the struggles that people outside her kingdom had faced?

One could argue, that a ruler’s sole focus should be on her own subjects’ safety. It should be paramount, and the most key of factors in any decision making.

But to be a good person, was key in itself to being a good ruler, yet here these people were neglected. Unprotected, Unacknowledged, and worst of all, no longer truly free.

She wanted to do something, anything. Give the whole of her wealth back home just to afford these people reliable water, energy, guards. Something! But resources were spread thin for the fight back in the rest of the kingdoms.

But here she was, a passive observer to their suffering. Clones traipsing around in their boots with watchful eyes. One wrong move and they’d be spotted, and walking through with a big lump of metal strapped to her leg kept her pace clumsy.

Getting caught now would do none of these people any good, but that tiny intrusive voice seemed to chant inside her head.

‘But what if you could take them? What if we liberated this town right now? Why don’t you just fight already? What’s stopping you?’

Never one to listen to logic, Glimmer struggled to suppress that voice. Only feeling the pain of the utter futility of any immediate action with each step.

Catra, meanwhile, tried to bury her guilt as they walked along. She hadn’t done things to these extremes, and hadn’t directly enforced the new directives that caused such lifestyle changes.

She didn’t remove the most capable people from this town, in hopes the people’s hopes to rebel would crumble and die out.

She didn’t restrict their water, leaving the residents to lie on the sides of the road to bake in the hot sun with little relief.

She didn’t put sand in their generators, leaving many without power to fumble in the dark.

She didn’t do this to them, but she may as well have. She opened the portal, she set off Prime’s arrival in Etheria. She occupied too much territory with too few soldiers, and when Prime’s armies swept through, her forces kowtow-ed and handed these people’s lives into his monstrous hands.

Catra wanted to rule, or die trying. Even if it meant taking everyone with her, but to make these people suffer? It was a fine line. The buzzing of the flies and the foul smell of rot that coasted through the town seemed to make that line ever present.

This wasn’t something she ever wanted to do, or cause, and it’d be another debt she’d have to pay back. Another regret and pitfall she’d need to overcome to make things right. She clutched her side where her old wound ached. Gritting her teeth.

Despite everything Tactus had said about the magic dissipating over time, Catra could still feel it within her. Twinges every now and then of pain in her side. But talking to Tactus about it didn’t feel right.

Why should she complain? She had regrown an entire chunk of her body. It might’ve still been growing back, and bothering the Owl about it seemed foolish. She’d just have to suck it up, grin, and bear it.

Then there was the Aviarian.

Tactus’ keen ears could hear the vast many footfalls and chatter of voices. Conversations spliced together, the shriek of a crying child, the wail of a sick old man maddened by sunstroke, the clinking of chimes made from old cans.

It was all too much, the sounds of misery and the hustle and bustle in the town. He could hear it all and he wanted to block it out. His eyes clenching as he tried desperately to focus only on the things most immediate.

The sound of his own heartbeat, the rush of blood in his veins. The feel of the tarp under his fingertips. The sand beneath his feet. Anything but the noise which permeated deep into his brain. He couldn’t even think, only take in the sounds, wanting to scream. Being in a place of such noise and sound was unbearable.

He kept his head low, foolishly believing if he could keep himself from seeing the world around him, he’d gain the ability to control his sensations better. But this was but fuel to the fire.

In doing so, the cries of the people in pain were too hauntingly familiar. They weren’t in the language he was used to, but pain is sadly a universal constant, regardless of world. He was reminded of the villages he had passed through in his early days serving as a field medic.

The overwhelming scent of ash and iron. The shrieks. The stress of managing multiple wounded people at once, even if you could apply the potions and proper remedies and curatives at once. The scars would vanish, but the memories would not.

So many people here in need of help, and not enough medical supplies to go around.

Not helping these people now was an active decision he was making for the sake of secrecy. If he could make it out of here, more people would be saved overall. That was the number he wanted to look at and feel satisfied with, but he couldn’t shake the overwhelmingly painful decision he was making now. Doing something awful, for the sake of preventing a future worse awful.

But even with the justification, this too would be another scar for Tactus. Another memory where he wished he could be just the slightest bit more useful.

He opened his eyes again, following close behind Glimmer with his cane. His back aching from the hunched position he had taken and already regretting it. Feeling an extra soreness in his wings from the fancy flying he had done in the days prior. They were out of practice, and still woefully undersized. Truthfully, he was thankful they hadn’t snapped in just that most recent attempt at flight.

Keeping focused on the people infront of him helped him find himself again. Their convoy pressed on into the marketplace.

Passing by a pair of clones which leaned against a wall and chatting. The Owl catching a snippet of their conversation, as they were not remotely focused at all on their surroundings.

“Got a word from our L.T. that all ground troops are to meet at spires for testing. We got an outbreak of Clone-Rot that started to sweep through the impromptu sickbays on the Citadel.”

“You’re kidding! Even if we’re not showing signs? My fingernails seem fine, no nutrient deficiencies here.”

“Doesn’t matter. They need skin samples, blood, hair, stool, the works.”

Though they seemed engrossed in their conversation, Tactus felt unease as they passed by their gaze. Leaning close to Glimmer and faking a small cough. Anything to lean into the act of being ‘infirm’ or ‘unworthy’ of their time. 

“Stardust, a little help?” He asks, reaching a hand out to her. She seemed confused, but took his hand. The owl just wanting the excuse to walk beside her. Hiding her from view with his form and keeping himself inbetween her and the guards.

“Sure, T-…Kowl.” She corrected herself.

“You alright back there, Grandpa Kowl?” Catra asked with an awkward tone. She wanted to crack wise despite the circumstances, but it came out half-hearted and weak.

“Or would you like Granny Rosie here to help?” She cocked her head at Huntara, who scowled. She was frustrated enough at the slow pace they had to take just to avoid being noticeable. Tactus’ disguise, although effective, slowed them down enough on its own.

She was tempted to pick the bird up and haul him over to their destination herself.

“Come on, we need to enter the Market, there’s something we need to do before we can meet with the bugs.” Huntara led them past the invisible boundary line between the market district and the living district.

The Marketplace seemed immediately different from the rest of the town of Blister.

The energy seemed more upbeat and less broken then the rest of the town. Travelers and villagers alike passed by under hooded cloaks. Most had wrapped some kind of bandage on themselves, with canes crutches and eye patches. A blend of people who actually did need them and people just trying to avoid harassment.

It was almost comical even, as the Clones did not question anyone who seemed even the slightest hint injured. Even as a blind woman stepped over a stray brick in the road, as kids hobbled around on crutches and switching legs once one had gotten tired, and the seemingly deaf hummed in perfect tune to the strumming of a lonesome guitarist.

The people of the Crimson Wastes, despite their pain were resilient and cunning. In a place where everyone was seemingly always out to get eachother, there was the most incredible sense of bonding and community that came with this enemy. One they all collectively agreed to fight, for the sake of their old ways of life. They took advantage of every flaw, every moment of weakness the clones had taken, and every lapse of perception they had.

They resisted their oppression, and saw fit to live as pleasant of lives as they could, in spite of their pursuits to destroy their quality of life.

The closer one could get to the marketplace, the stronger a more pleasant scent could be perceived. The cooking of meats, the charcoal of its fuel, and the sweet scent of juices from fruits of the desert.

The Food Vendors in the marketplace were still open, even if Prime had shut down the weapons vendors and scrap dealers. The collective food vendors were allowed to stay open only so as to provide just enough nourishment to the townsfolk so as not to incite further tensions and risk a revolt. But not so much as to leave everyone satisfied and the most well fed.

One food stand seemed to stand out to anyone in sight. Behind the stand stood a bipedal bug. A humanoid ant missing an antennae, that multi tasked with his two sets of abdominal arms.

One set spun the spit on which a massive chunk of meat was speared upon, while the other was busy slicing hunks of meat into perfect cuts for sandwiches. 

Catra sniffed at the scent of meat in the air and felt her stomach growl. Her eyes entranced by the meat on the spit. It’s skin glistening as the juices from the fat made their way to the surface. Crackling and crisping the outer edges at the flame’s touch. Though the server made her somewhat uneasy. His blackened eyes made him seem soulless, barely more aware than a drone or machine as he carved away.

“Is this him?” Glimmer mutedly whispers to Huntara. Catra felt her hand instinctively check to make sure her hatchet was where she needed it to be, and Tactus reached into his pack for a little potion he had worked on the night before incase things went sour. But Huntara held up her hand in a stiff motion. The military hand signal for them to ‘hold back’.

Huntara took a quick sweep of the surroundings, clearing her throat. But the Ant did not seem to notice, chopping up the meat with remarkable speed. The massive cleaver in his grip moving at almost lightning speed, slick with juices that seemed to be flung around with each slice.

Huntara knocked roughly on the wood counter of the food stand. The Ant did not even bother to look up, roughly gurgling out in the roughest approximation of speech. Their voice was like an old drum covered in sap. Uncomfortable to listen to, and probably more uncomfortable to touch.

Glimmer felt her stomach turn at the sound, not knowing anything that walked across her world could ever sound quite like that.

“2 Bits a Sandwich, 8 Bits for a whole pound .” They explained, continuing to chop.

“Hey Nero. Where’s Beetle and Belial?” Huntara asked sternly. The Ant stopping mid swing, finally looking at who he was talking to.

His massive head and dusk colored eyes focused on Huntara warily, antennae wiggling around to sense the air as it adjusted its crooned neck to stare at Glimmer. Clicking His mandibles uncomfortably in her direction. She felt sick, as if the Ant could smell her fear. Catra stepped inbetween the bug and her, with Tactus pulling Glimmer back by her shoulders.

Catra bared her teeth.

“You better keep those eyes and antennaes away from her, or I’ll pluck’em right out and make you eat’em.”

The Ant said nothing, planting his cleaver into the chopping block for meat firmly. Lodging it in with one hard strike. A reminder of just how strong an ant could be.

“Now now…” Huntara smirked, not used to playing the good cop in these situations.

“That won’t be necessary, as long as Nero here gives us the info we want. So, where’s Beetle and Belial?”

“Out.” He growled, turning his back to them and checking the fire of the meat, his mandibles spreading, and a burst of flame emitted from his mouth. Restoking the fire.

Glimmer was shocked, as she hadn’t seen any of the telltale signs that would imply the fire was magical. Which meant that the fire he had just produced was entirely biological. She had heard of such creatures before, but was surprised she was actually standing barely a few feet away from one.

And Catra would’ve laughed at the realization that he was a ‘fire ant’, but was overcome with the desire to gag at the idea that the fire which the meat was being cooked upon had come from this things body. Though in fairness, she would probably do the same given the opportunity.

But, Tactus noted that fireant wasn’t lying, as his heart rate, weird as it may have been considering his species, hadn’t increased. He had spoken the truth, which meant that unless he was being especially coy with his words, or an unbelievably good liar, they were truly not there.

Huntara, on the other hand, hated these games that these types always liked to play. Deciding to get ahead of the curve.

“Oh, I see. You want me to then ask, ‘Well when will they be back’, to which you’ll reply. ‘Later’. Because short words suit you bugs best. Look, I want to make a deal with them. Get me a meeting with them today, and…”

Huntara reached into her pocket, slamming down some gold coins on the counter.

“4 fucking sandwiches.” She demands, the temptingly juicy meat on the spit having taunted her for too long. Giving a quick check back to the other 3 for approval.

“4, right?”

Catra was, admittedly a little disturbed at the flame’s source, but the growl in her stomach reminded her that she had eaten plenty of worse things before.

“Sure.”

Tactus, not one to turn down such high-quality seeming meat, nodded in agreement, with Glimmer reaching a similar conclusion to Catra, hunger outweighing any other reasoning.

“Yes please.”

Nero was somewhat confused by their boldness. But if Huntara was willing to make a deal with his bosses, and as the food would be paid for, he didn’t mind making their meals.

“Boss back in 2 Hours. Meet then.” He instructed in that same harshly fluid-filled tone. Portioning out the cuts already on the table into four.

“Sauce, Sauce for Meat?” He probed, pulling a small bottle of a lightly reddish-brown sauce.

Huntara, feeling the strangest instinct not to trust the sauce bottle decided to follow her gut.

“Nope. Just the meat and bread. All of them.”

There was his slow blink again, his one good antenna rubbing over his right eye.

But thankfully, he didn’t seem to complain or insist on the sauce. Which led Huntara to believe that maybe it wasn’t poisoned after all and merely just dubious.

The Fireant quickly producing 4 barbecued sandwiches for them, hold the sauce.

Huntara collected them and passed them out. Catra quickly stuffing the thing into her mouth in a near rabid frenzy, Glimmer taking a few careful chews of it, and Tactus rearing his head back and swallowing the thing whole.

Huntara took a cautious bite for herself. The meat was tender and simple, but overwhelmingly tasty for what seemed like a simple cut of meat. Not too gristly, with just the right amount of fat to add flavor.

The Fireant seemed rude, but he at least made a fine sandwich.

“Thanks.” Huntara muttered. The Fireant shooting back another reminder.

“2 hours.”

Huntara held her sandwich in one hand, elbowing Glimmer’s shoulder.

“Pass him the note so they know what parts to look for.”

Glimmer was mid-swallow and tried to avoid choking, nearly coughing her food back up as she produced the note. Taking another swallow as her eyes began to water from the brief instance where she was unable to breathe. It was embarrassing, and she turned away as she wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

Nero took the note, giving the Queen an odd face. Or at least, odder than his usual face, perplexed with her momentarily. Spotting the tiniest tuft of her pink glittery hair poking out from under her headscarf after her little adjustment.

“Your Order has been Received. Return Later.” He reiterates, flapping his arms to shoo them away.

“Okay, we’re goin’ we’re goin’.” Catra grumbled through a mouthful of sandwich, Huntara rolling her eyes and guiding them away.

“Well that could’ve gone worse…” Glimmer commented, noticing her hair was hanging out slightly and tucking it back in. Not thinking twice about it.

Huntara was wordless as she walked them out of the marketplace, taking a turn down a road and leaving the public area in the marketplace. Away from the eyes of so many.

“Two Hours, then. Just what we need.”

Tactus, with his modest sense of direction noticed that they weren’t going back the way they came to wait it out.

“…Rose, this isn’t the way back to the Hostel.”

“I’m aware, Kowl. We’ve got 2 hours to burn, and I’ve got a little idea for a Recon Mission in the meantime.” Huntara answered. Flipping up her eyepatch to get a good look at the spire as it ominously stood over the tops of the roofs of every building. 


	10. Testify

SLAP

Adora’s hand collided with her own face. The soldier waking up frightened by her own action, hollering in terror, thinking she was being attacked.

Her hand rushed to her sword as she flipped onto her feet from her position lying against a wall. Pointing it at each end of the alley she was in ready for an oncoming enemy.

Absentmindedly batting at a fly that was buzzing around her with her free hand. Her mind slowly catching up to her as she put two and two together.

“Oh..” Her voice came out in a dry rasp, sheathing her sword. Her hands drifting back up to her throat as she felt it, uncomfortably dry as it was. She had fallen asleep with the wraps around her face on, and as the sun rose higher into the air the heat increased, causing her to perspire furiously.

She tugged at her wrappings, head tilting to the skies above. The sun was already making it’s way to the center of the blue beyond. She felt her own self-reproach well up in her throat. She had slept for nearly 10 hours, and lost most of the day she was going to spend looking for Glimmer.

She heard the soft snores of the Sorcerer on the ground, his mouth open. Still unaware of their plight.

“Your Highness! King Micah, please wake up.” Adora hurriedly whispered as she shook him by the shoulder. The king drowsily batting her hand away.

“Leave me alone Shaundi…I’m busy getting another stripper pole installed….”

Adora wasn’t quite sure what she felt about that. There was a lot to unpack with that statement, but rather than find out more than she ever wanted to know, Adora pressed.

“King Micah, no you need to wake up.” She shook him again, and he woke up with a snort. Blinking wearily, and yawning. Looking around at where he found himself and slowly sitting up.

“Oh, wow. You would not believe the craziest dream I had.” He muttered, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes from the peculiar dreams of big cities, money, and something about people who called themselves ‘saints.

“King Micah, it’s noon.”

Apparently coming back to his senses, Micah clamored to his feet.

“Oh my god…” breathes out. He had lost time in finding his baby girl, and time for finding a healer for Bow.

He patted his face to feel how his disguise was holding up, feeling it stay on remarkably well. A small sigh emitting from his lips. A drastic change of plans was necessary.

“Adora. We need to split up. It’s the only way we’ll be able to make up for lost time.”

Adora had been thinking similarly.

“Yes sir, I take West end, you take East End?”

“YES!” Micah points at Adora as he gathers his gear in a frenzy. Already about to walk away and get searching.

“Meet back here in 3 hours. Hopefully, finding any of them won’t take that long.”

“Wait!” Adora stops him.

“W-what do I do if I find her early, or if either of us gets into trouble?”

Micah tapped his temple, twisting on his heel as he remembered something, producing a peculiar little necklace from his pocket. A tiny medallion in the shape of the sun attached to a small rope.

“Angie and I used to use things like these when we had to split up in battle. Press in on the little sunflare triangle things and it sets off my moon necklace. I’ll know where you are. Take it.” He shakes it in Adora’s direction, desperately needing her to take the necklace so he could get right to work.

“I-“ She stammered, hit with the overwhelming weight of being in charge of something that had such sentimental value to Micah.

“Just. Take it.” He drops it into her open hands and dashes away.

“See you soon.” He calls back, leaving Adora holding the little necklace in her hands. It was so small, yet she felt like she was holding the entire sun in her hands.

Angella’s necklace.

It had been nearly 2 years since that day, when Angella had given her life for her. She had promised she’d take care of Glimmer, and now she was here in this town. Ready to bring her home.

Fastening the necklace around her own neck, she carried with it the will to make good on that promise once more.

But an intrusive thought reared its ugly head.

She had come here solely for Glimmer, but with Catra in the mix now too things seemed to grow ever the more complicated.

Sword tucked neatly away, she tread onwards. In search of her Queen, her oldest friend, or at least the elusive raptor that had accompanied them.

* * *

“Any sentries?”

“Twitchy just walked off with Bruiser right now. Coast is clear.” Huntara answered back.

“You named them?” Catra asked, almost wanting to laugh. The larger woman rolling her eyes and moving out of cover from the alley they were in.

“No…just the types they got. Twitchy’s have the small rifles, always looking around. Bruisers have the body armor.”

“Breachers and Gunners.” Tactus explains, following close behind.

“Breacher?” Glimmer’s face showed a look of uncomfortable concern. Unfamiliar with the word and possible connotations.

Tactus’ reply only making her internal dread root itself deeper.

“Breachers clear buildings, Gunners clear streets.”

Huntara growled under her breath.

“Not in this town, not anymore.”

They were close to the edge of town, where the Spire had dropped. Huntara had been plotting this for some time. One small team to survey the ground defenses, another team with some kind of high-powered telescope or binoculars to look at the tower itself from a vantage point. Scope the doors, and anything else notable enough about it that might be useful.

She was considering recruiting anyone in the area as subtly as the warrior woman could, but fate would have it that this trio would practically fall into her lap. A Princess, Another Ex-Horde commander, and a veteran combat Medic, with experience fighting them already too!

“Here’s the idea. Team Wings gets up to the roof of Jones’ Scrap Hut.” Huntara pointed to a rather large shack that sat not all too far from the borderline where the Horde Encampment sat. The leaning heap of scrap metal rising a good 40 feet above any of the other typical shacks. As far as shacks go, it seemed almost elegant. Even having a radio antenna sticking out the top.

“Pass this message onto Jones if you see him, been holding onto this for awhile for Mama Bonham.” Huntara produced a letter from her pocket. Placing the old, dirty and slightly envelope in Tactus’ hands. The Owl looked at both sides of the oddly bare envelope in both hands. No discernable writing, but something else about it felt weird in his touch that he couldn’t quite describe.

“He’s an old friend of Mama Bonham’s, if he’s still alive and there he should be helpful. If not, get to the top of his place anyways and take notes of everything you see.” 

“Affirmative.” Tactus assured, knowing his visor and eyesight would be incredibly beneficial to that goal.

“Meanwhile Team Badass,” Huntara continues, wrapping one big beefy arm around Catra and pulling her in. The feline starting to squirm in discomfort in her grip.

“Is going to sweep around the border and take notes of what we see.”

“Got it.” Glimmer affirmed, grinning at Catra as uncomfortable as she was being brought into the one-armed hug by Huntara. She would’ve liked to have been part of team ‘badass’, but she’d get a chance to stretch her new wings and couldn’t really argue. Though she would’ve liked some time with Catra alone sometime soon. Just to chat, since she had seemed to be acting weird since they had left Prime’s Citadel.

She was looking out for Side Effects with Catra, noticing her grimace when Huntara hugged her, general aloofness, sporadically protective. It seemed like normal cat behavior to her, so she wasn’t quite sure. Her time frame to have any side effects had long since passed, but the ever-present mark on her side bored into her mind.

Catra could feel Glimmer’s intent gaze, feeling like a subject under a microscope. Rather than directly address it, she chose to do the more strategic of maneuvers and shooed them off to their task.

“You two’d better go now. We got less than two hours, let’s not waste’em.”

“Battlecat’s right.” Huntara concurred.

“We only have so much time before we gotta meet back up with the bugs.”

“You two be careful, don’t give me anything to fix.” Tactus demanded with a wry little grin, giving them both a wink and a salute.

Catra snickered, shaking her head.

“Don’t you tempt me now, and hey, take care too, both of ya.”

She pointed a pair of fingers at them. Glimmer rolling her eyes and beaming.

“We will, you take care of her too, Hun- Rose.”

“Got it. _Stardust_.” Huntara shot back, mimicking Tactus’ little two fingered salute. Tactus linking arms with Glimmer and leading her to Jones’ Scrap Hut.

They were barely 40 feet away when Tactus saw fit to press Glimmer for something he felt was necessary.

“Stardust, could you do me a massive favor?”

“What’s wrong?”

His head turned around in his cloak, looking through his hood and gauging Huntara and Catra’s distance from him by the size of their hearts on the heart rate monitor for his visor. Head slowly swiveling back around to face the front.

“Would you kindly press Catra to come see me when you get the chance? I believe she’s been hiding her pain recently.”

Glimmer sighed deeply. Responding earnestly if albeit a little wary.

“Yep. I’ve had a feeling about that. How can you tell?”

“I keep seeing her heart rate have little…spikes. Not in an Arrythmia way. More in a ‘I’ve just felt a sudden pain’ way.”

“I thought you talked to her about that already?”

“I did. I don’t know why she’s hiding it now, but I could use your help in convincing her to come back to me again. We’re her only real support group right now, and we need to keep ourselves together to make it out of here.”

Tactus slid his hand into Glimmer’s, giving it a soft but firm squeeze. It felt oddly natural to take her hand, so much so he didn’t even really realize he had done it.

Glimmer felt a blush creep it’s way onto her face, turning her head to avoid facing him.

She wanted to help Catra too, especially if she was going through pain still from the Phoenix Fire incident. She slowly pulled her hand out of Tactus’.

“Why didn’t you press her sooner if this was such a concern to you?”

Tactus shrugged.

“She struck me as the prideful, but not necessarily stupid type. I imagine it’s not incredibly painful, and if I pressed, she’d be too combative. I know she has…”

Tactus’ paused, trying to organize his words so as not to reveal too much of what Catra had told him before in confidence.

“She’s…she’s more likely to be receptive to what you say, rather than I.”

“Me? She’s always flaunting around, acting t-the way that she does! Laughing at my expense...” Glimmer fumed at the remembrance of all the teasing she had been doing to her this entire time. Slowly feeling her hand enter Tactus’ again. Her fingers slipping to the slightly awkward position of clasping around just two of his fingers.

Tactus knew it wasn’t his place to out Catra’s feelings to Glimmer. It was between them, and if Catra’s attitude towards the queen had changed she deserved the right to back out. So, Tactus merely said.

“I feel she would respond. You’re good at influencing people sometimes too, you know. You got me to put my faith in you so quick, didn’t you?” He let his thumb stroke the back of her palm.

Glimmer smirked with confidence.

“Yeah, yeah I guess I did…” She clung onto Tactus’ arm as they walked.

They exchanged glances, and Glimmer immediately defended her actions.

“You’re supposed to be an old man, someone needs to make sure you don’t fall over.”

“I didn’t say a word.”

“No, but you were thinking it.”

Tactus mirthfully chuckled.

“Oh, and you can read minds now?”

“You don’t know what spells I’ve learned.” Glimmer chuckled, as they neared the lopsided shack that was “Jones’ Scrap Hut”. The air was filled with that unmistakable scent of iron and rust, with just a touch of oil.

Bags seemed to be tied to poles that jutted out of the second floor of the scraphut, filled with junk of all sorts to advertise the wares. A wire screen door with wooden panels to cover up the holes was the entrance to the building. A plywood panel on the door seemed to be new, based on the lack of age or wear and tear, covered in ominous splashes of paint in haphazard and undiscernible shapes.

“What the…” Glimmer muttered, touching the odd splotches. Her hand tracing down to touch the doorknob. Giving it a quick twist, feeling the discernible resistance that came from the door’s locked state.

“Hello?”

She called out, Tactus’ head kept on a swivel. There was no heartbeat within a fair distance of about 30 feet at least. None that he could see within the entire 360 range of vision at all. But that didn’t sit right with him. He thought he heard breathing coming from inside, but the winds were starting to pick up in the town. Desert wind billowing from miles away.

How could there be breathing, but no heartbeat?

“Stardust, I believe w-“ He began but was cut off as Glimmer pounded on the door again furiously.

“HELLO? Anybody home?”

“Sign says closed, ya dumb wench.” A gruff voice replied from above. The pair turning their attention upwards where the noise had come from. One of the bags of junk hanging from the poles that jutted out from the seemed to stir. Tactus couldn’t believe he had missed it.

That heartbeat coming from the dead center of what looked like a trashbag, the plastic spread apart to reveal it wasn’t plastic at all. It was a set of tar-black wings, opening to expose the being underneath. A massive brown-furred bat. His ears the size of dinner plates, his snout and face scarred, his eyes milky white. Gray patches of fur all over his head and ears.

He wore, ironically, a pair of batwing chaps, a metal armor plate on his chest, A red bandana tied loosely around his neck, with the tiniest little drawn on fangs being ever so slightly discernable.

He dropped from the pole he clung to in his nap, flipping down and onto his feet infront of them. Bringing along with him a peculiarly wrapped up crutch he placed under his arm.

Tactus was not one to typically allow friends to be insulted and was tempted to make a move on that nature alone. But this individual seemed remarkably battered and old as it was. Still, he wanted to keep Glimmer safe and tried to step infront of her.

The Queen would not have it, placing a hand infront of him and stepping towards him. She didn’t enjoy being insulted either, and like hell if she’d let Tactus fight her battles for her.

She looked at the plywood covered in hapdashedly splattered paint and assumed this was what he meant by ‘sign’.

“Fuck you! That doesn’t even look like words. How am I supposed to know it says closed?”

Tactus through his hand up into the air in exasperation as Glimmer escalated the situation. The bat blew air out of his nose.

“Fuck you! I’m blind, I’m trying my best here dammit!”

Glimmer’s mouth hung open as she was in the middle of making a retort, only just realizing why his eyes were so milky.

“ _Oh_.” She says, feeling a touch guilty. She wanted to proceed with ‘well you should’ve asked for help’, but decided it wasn’t worth it. Tactus stepping to derail, or rather, re-rail this conversation to something productive.

“You’re Jones, yes?” The Owl asks, the brow of the Bat raising, his ears twitching and twisting as if to take in every word he said.

“Now, that’s quite a voice you got there…” He half-purred out to him, his entire tone seeming to change. Clearing his throat before he introduced himself. Extending a hand.

“Jones, owner of Jones’ scrap hut, Scrapper, Hunter…” He listed, Glimmer taking his hand and giving it a shake, his grip firm and brief. Quickly letting go and extending it towards Tactus’ direction. The Owl taking a hold and feeling himself suddenly pulled in, the Bat taking a moment to kiss his hand.

“And both a Fighter, and a Lover…” He cooed, flashing his fangs at the bird. The Owl, not knowing how to take such a sudden and forward act, blushed clean through his feathers. Pulling his hand away to straighten the feathers he had felt suddenly ruffle out of place.

“W-we are..” He stuttered, something he wasn’t even fully aware was something he could do through his collar. Feeling a twinge of jealousy, Glimmer tugged on Tactus’ arm, pulling him to the door.

“ _We_ are here for assistance.” She divulged, reaching around to pull the letter out of Tactus’ pocket. The Owl hooting in surprise as the Queen flapped the letter in Jones’ general direction. The bat leaning on his crutch and grabbing it with ease. Biting the corner of the envelope and tearing the letter out. He chirped twice at it then suddenly erupted into laughs.

Glimmer confused at how he had read it without looking at it, even more confused that once she realized it was in braille and yet he hadn’t touched it. Had he really just used echolocation to read it?

“Ol’ Tanksy Bonham has always been a funny old woman, long as I’ve known her s‘least.” He mused with a nostalgic little smile, stuffing the note into a little pocket on the side of his crutch where the butt met his armpit.

Stepping infront of the door, plucking a key from that same pocket on his crutch and opening it.

“Come on, give me the rest of the details inside.” He hobbled into the doorway. The store interior was filled with tables and glass cases, all of which were left barren by the Horde’s reclamation. Dust already filling in the spots where machined pieces once sat.

The mounted heads of bizarre creatures and taxidermy creatures decorating shelves and the walls.

“Don’t have any of the parts for salvage anymore, so sorry I can’t help with all that…” He apologizes, his ear turning to listen behind him. Twitching as the air drifted in.

“Close and lock that door. Last thing I want is any of them Clone Boys running around here with those sexy legs and big ol’ ears. Sniffing around, getting into my busy-ness…” The bat rambled, Tactus shutting the door. All the while suppressing a gag at the idea of anyone finding the clones attractive.

Jones ran his hand fondly over what seemed to be the head of a massive desert worm that was mounted to the wall. It’s maw was spread open into a star shape, fangs protruding from it’s hideous mouth.

“Letter didn’t say much about who you two are…but Tanksy sentcha, yeah?”

“An associate of hers.” Tactus clarified, keeping Huntara’s name a secret. Not that it mattered. The bat nodding, his back still turned.

“Lil’ Plaunt? I bet she’s almost yea big by now, and her shell almost as wide-“ The bat lifted his hand up to around the middle of his chest, indicating an easy 5 foot 2, though suddenly grew solemn as if he remembered something. Those milky eyes starting to water.

“Oh…sorry. I…my mind ain’t at all used to be…I forgot that…” he trailed off.

Glimmer felt off put by his jovial nature taking a sudden dip.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, already having an uncomfortable sneaking suspicion as to what he’d say. But he waved his hand.

“Forget about it. I don’t need ya names. Just know I’m in. Now come on,” He derailed, opening a gated cage that wrapped around a ladder leading up to the roof.

“You’re gonna love the view…but you two pricks better describe it to me while you’re up there.” He demands, slinging his arm underneath his crutch and climbing upwards.

Tactus motioned to the ladder with his hand.

“After you.”

Glimmer, remembering the last time she went ahead of Tactus in such a tight spot such as this, quickly shot down that offer.

“Nuh-uh, you’re going first this time.” She clarified, placing her hands on his lower back and giving him a gentle push forward.

“Not doing _that_ again.”

Tactus narrowed his eyes, searching for previous memories to understand her odd behavior. The moment his memory hit him, he quickly acquiesced to her new proposal, his beak feeling uncomfortable again at the thought.

“Er, yes. Very true…good point. _Very_ good point.” He sputtered, grasping the ladder’s rungs and hauling himself upwards, determined to not let a similar incident occur here.

Glimmer rolling her eyes stifling a laugh as she climbed up, figuring she might as well enjoy the view on the way up.

* * *

Meanwhile, the affectionately named “Team Badass”, was already in the process of scoping out the checkpoints.

“Keep your head down, and stick with me.” The older woman insisted, pulling Catra by the arm behind a wall, just as a clone passed them up. The closer they got, the more suspicious they seemed. Even with a disguise, getting caught might just be a death sentence. But, ever the rebel, Catra pulled her arm out of Huntara’s grasp.

“Hands off, I knew he was coming…”

“If you did, then why didn’t you take cover?”

“I figured I coulda grabbed his comm and taken him down.”

“And then what?” Huntara prodded for her elaboration.

“Then we’d have a fucking comm, what do you mean ‘and then what?’.”

Frustrated with her for not thinking it through, Huntara chastised her.

“We’re not taking any of them out now, much as I’d like to. This is survey only.”

“Fine.” Catra grumbled, keeping her eye out and her ears on the alert.

“Then we should split. Cover more ground.” Catra suggested, but Huntara was quick to veto such an idea.

“No, we stick together. Watch eachother’s backs.” 

Catra crossed her arms in frustration. To her this was stupid, but it wasn’t her town to protect. She didn’t have as much investment here as Huntara did, even if she felt some desires to fix things. If Huntara’s plan would screw up the mission, she planned on throwing her under the bus when it inevitably went awry.

“Fuck it…whatever.”

The older woman rolled her eyes, she expected better behavior from her due to her service. But then again, she supposed Catra probably only went up in the ranks in the Horde so she wouldn’t have to listen to what anybody said. Still, a reluctant conciliation was preferable to an unpleasant refusal.

Huntara, was completely averse to allowing Catra to leave her sight. Though her story of escape and sudden change of heart sounded nice, Huntara was never the most optimistic. She didn’t expect the feline to stick around for the rest of the upcoming war. She knew plenty about what it took for a person to become a deserter, from personal experience.

Wanting to run from a war, conflicts with the ideology, the people in charge, what you’re doing. Maybe just wanting to escape and feel freedom. But this wasn’t the time for stuff like that.

In most other cases, she’d say that anyone had the right to feel free in what could potentially be their last days. It was a fundamental rule she had held firmly to. Freedom to make your own decisions and guide your life however you want. But Huntara also believed in a sense of justice for one’s actions.

She had done plenty of terrible things in her life, but never anything that had caused such a severe ripple to the lives of everyone in Etheria. Maybe Catra truly never did intend for things to get this far, but Huntara didn’t believe that mattered.

Glimmer wasn’t going to just run from all this, but the eyes of the Cat had been bugging her this entire time. The way she joked and deflected conversation topics. She wasn’t letting a single thing sink in, and sooner or later she was bound to crack. The moment she did, Huntara expected to see her run with her tail between her legs. With her standing right there to yank her back by that tail and make sure she got the job done.

“Come on. Let’s get a good look at the front. I know some decent spots on the ground we can use.” Huntara leads forward, with Catra close behind. The feline’s ears shifting to hear any minute change in the environment around her. Her keen nose smelling something peculiar as they neared.

Huntara leading them around a corner to take cover behind some crates. A subtle electronic hum filling the air, with green light bathing the streets around them. Seeming to make the boxes they took cover behind on the street corner outlined like a monolith. It was trash and other refuse, but in the perfect position it sat in, it would provide just enough cover to keep them hidden, with enough holes in the crates to observe the outside through.

Sitting just about 15 meters away from the borderline of the Horde Outpost. It was situated on one of the wider streets in town, being one of the few closest to the old back exit.

Huntara got down and into one of the bottom-most crates, beckoning Catra with a hand to join her.

“Get down here and take a look.” She tapped next to the peephole that she had carved in days before with a knife. Catra felt oddly nervous to see, the green glow that emitted from just beyond her view made her grow uneasy. That faint hum of machinery felt like a death toll for her. As if the moment she glanced through the peephole, she’d be struck dead. Her scar on her side ached and burned, but Catra did not back down, and finally she peered through.

The entire street had been blocked off, green holoshields created barriers and cover for the clones. Opaque, as if it were frosted glass to hide the positions of the clones on the other side. Raised up on a platform dead center of the barricade was a single clone behind a mounted gun. Electronic sentry guns flanking him on either side, though the barrels seemed odd. They were flared out at the ends, and little scratches at the base where it connected to the housing implied that the entire barrel could spin. The sentry housing was also on a swivel, a little green eye piece on it seemed to scan the area for anyone or anything.

Huntara somehow knew exactly what Catra was looking at, explaining what they were.

“Flamethrowers. Saw a guy charge right in, and before the Gunner up there could even raise his rifle, those things turned him into barbecue.”

Catra grit her teeth. This was way more serious than she expected. It was a solid defense, even had patrolling clones wandering by that kept their eyes out for anything the Gunner might miss. The shields that made the bulk of the barricade oddly seemed to have an oscillating pulse.

Every few seconds Catra could see what was almost like a wave of energy that spread upwards from the metal projection base. Her eyes followed it down to a massive wire hidden behind the shields themselves.

“Huntara, look at the shields. Right by the metal base…See that wire?”

Huntara, curiously peeked a glance out of the peephole closest to her.

“I see it…”

“Wires gotta go somewhere, and if these things are powered…then that means somewhere behind their frontlines is a-“

* * *

“Shield generators, there and there.” Tactus pointed with his finger. Having a clear view of the entire Horde Outpost from Jones’ Scrap Hut roof.

The outpost had a large circular border, with the spire dead center. Wires and cables extended outwards from the central spire, leading to all sorts of smaller generators which powered the lights, weaponry, recharging stations for ammunition, and the shields.

Most Clones patrolled along the walls, with a few scattered ones on the inside running repairs in big flattened workstation areas, and some doing physical training through either exercise or sparring. A small gathering took place in the north western edge, where a group of clones surrounded a pair that were boxing eachother. Barefisted as they pounded the other until they grew bruised.

The bruises would heal, but there was an almost fun danger to the game. The worry that one could hurt the other to the point of being ‘decommissioned’. It was a fight of dominance to see how far one could push themselves and stay in the game, without succumbing to the faults of pride. Either one could tap out at any time and fighting in such a way improved their skill and strategical combat.

But enough about them.

Glimmer, Tactus, and Jones sat on the roof, taking note of everything they could see. Or rather, everything that Tactus could see, as Glimmer’s vision wasn’t nearly good enough to make out much of the finer details, and Jones relied solely on his impeccable hearing.

“That’s the humming thing?” Jones asks, with his ears focusing with laser precision onto the primary shield generator.

“I believe so…” Tactus replied, though his hearing was incredible, even he couldn’t quite hear _that_ well.

Glimmer blinked, squinting her eyes and barely making it out.

“If that’s connected to the shields, if someone nailed that thing from here, figure that’d knock them out?”

A cacophony of sound erupted, as Jones pulled his crutch up, resting it on the lip of the roof, pulling down some of the wrappings at the butt of it and wrapping his fingers around it. The crutch lighting up and running down the barrel of it’s main support. The bat holding it firmly pressed against’ his shoulder, and now it became quite clear that his crutch was more than it seemed.

“I can nail that shot. I’ve hit smaller things from farther.” He chimed in with utter confidence, his ears adjusting as he fine tuned the aim he had with his plasma rifle.

The pair beside him finally realizing just why they had been asked to contact this bat. Tactus noticing the tally marks on the side of the butt, easily adding up to over 50 plus.

Tactus, interestedly, stepped behind the bat to check his aim. Sure enough the Bat was dead center for the shield generator, a target no larger than a foot wide and a foot in a half tall, at a distance of a little over 100 meters, completely blind. Jones smirked as he figured out what Tactus was doing.

“If you’re really feeling insecure about my shot, feel free to get closer to double check…” He teased, turning his head to Glimmer.

“I’ve done this alot. You just give the order and I take the shot.”

Glimmer waved her hand, trying to signal him to not do that, but then caught herself. Speaking up.

“Not now. But that’s not a bad idea for later…” She considered, scratching her chin. Tactus shrugged, scanning over the spire as it loomed into the sky.

“No bots, or drones…odd. Typically, there’d be more, but this location might be low priority. Only ground troops, weaponry is still light in this area.”

Tactus supposed, Glimmer feeling shocked as she saw the defenses and weaponry that exceeded most of what she knew when it came to typical Etherian combat.

“Wait, _this_ is light?”

“Well…no.” Tactus retracted his statement.

“When I say _light_ , I mean what I mean is it’s just biological living troops. Well trained and armed, but still just normal troops. None of the bots, I don’t even see any real heavy armored fighters. With a decent enough team of people we could easily-“

* * *

“drop the generators, break the front line, and spearhead a group through that can overrun their fighters before they even have a chance.” Catra continued detailing her plan idea to Huntara pointing at the rooftops.

“With marksmen providing covering fire, any magic users or anyone with enough explosive fire to rain down…”

Huntara was catching on.

“With enough volleys of covering fire, we draw out any of them in cover, and our ground team finishes them off until we get inside.”

“Assuming you can get a good enough team for it. Might need more flyers too…head up to that spire carrying other people, work our way down. Bottleneck’em.” Catra points to the top of the spire, where the sides flared out, a perfect landing pad.

Huntara nodded slowly, an amused grin on her face.

“Not bad. That’s a pretty good plan. Need more people for it, but we could make that work.”

Catra patted Huntara on the shoulder.

“Let me know how that goes.” She entreats, reminding her that this was a survey mission and the plan still entailed the three of them leaving soon. Huntara’s eyes lowered, she’d have to be the one helping to lead that, and finding the people in town who were not only capable enough, but willing to fight.

“Right…” She mumbled, her eyes suddenly widening as something caught her eye past the border, exiting from the spire.

“What in the fuuuuck……”

* * *

An alarm rang out through the outpost. Not one of warning, but rather to simply call their attention. Shrill, it rang as a Lieutenant marched forward. Visor adorned on his face, and at his sides came two clones in heavy armor. Massive chest plates and helmets. They held rifles which resembled the automated sentries at the front. The nozzles flared, implying they must’ve been flamethrowers.

“What’s going on?” Glimmer asked, getting low, worried that they might have been spotted.

“Stay down.” Tactus advised, lying flat on his stomach. Jones lying prone next to him, still having his hands on his rifle.

“If this goes south, I’ll hold them off.” He quickly submitted himself to fight. It had been some time since he had made a stand in a suicide mission, and he relished every instance.

The Lieutenant began speaking, though at this distance it was hard to tell, for most of them at least.

“He just called out a bunch of numbers. Those clone designations?...wait. He just said ‘Report to me’, definitely clone designations.” Jones relayed.

“You can hear all that? I’m having a hard time making any of it out.” Tactus replied. Glimmer, knowing she wasn’t going to hear anything decided to try to help the only other person who might.

Cupping her hands and placing them by the little tufts of feathers that sprung up on both sides of Tactus’ head.

“Here.”

Tactus knew this probably wasn’t the time to mention this or get snarky, but he let out a small sigh before speaking.

“Glimmer, those aren’t my ears.” He fretted, taking a hold of her hands and moving them down to the sides of his head where his earholes were. 

“I…” The Queen sputtered, deciding this was neither the time nor place to question anatomy.

“Just tell me what’s going on…”

Tactus’ mouth hung open as he saw the formation they were making. He knew exactly what they were doing, and this was not going to be a pleasant sight for anyone.

“Oh no…”

“Tactus, what’s wrong? What’s happening?”

He swallowed, his collar finally bleating out the answer.

“Testifying…”

* * *

“Stand at Attention. I need I-314 through I-318,E-210 and E-211. Report to me, now.” The Lieutenant ordered, pointing to the spot directly infront of him.

Every clone, regardless of their current position was taking heed. The Gunner stepped down from the platform, coming down to join the group.

The Clones knew what was happening today, it wasn’t the first or going to be the last time a testification would be happening. All clones in a given location were mandated by Prime himself to bear witness. With equal lines on each side to make room for the clones in question.

The six clones came forth and kneeled before their Lieutenant. The Fire Troops on each side of him kneeled in comraderie with the clones chosen for testification.

* * *

Catra saw her chance to get closer, now that the gunner was out of the way. This was the perfect chance to get more intel, maybe even see any further structural weak points. Popping out of cover only to roughly be pulled back down by Huntara by her tail.

“DON’T”

Catra lashed out, scratching hard into Huntara’s arm.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” she hissed.

Huntara adjusted her grip to grab Catra by the back of her vest, holding tight, turning her around to face her.

“Don’t…You get spotted, you’re dead, and same goes for the rest of us…”

Catra growled. This was the chance to get more, but Huntara was probably right. She took a deep breath to calm herself, and oddly seemed to feel the pain in her side subsided with her as she calmed down.

Still, they were doing something, and although Catra couldn’t quite see it over the barricade, aside from the tops of their heads. She could hear the booming voice of the Lieutenant prattle on.

* * *

“With all of our brilliance, we have examined your bodies, and found the truth. We have searched deep within you and found you to be…impure and flawed.”

The Lieutenant preached to his congregation. The clones that knelt there kept their heads down. Not arguing.

* * *

“Impure?” Glimmer mouthed back to Tactus, as he repeated the words so that Glimmer could understand. He had a decent idea of what they meant.

“Clone Rot…causes a vitamin deficiency, can’t absorb nutrients. Clone slowly rots as their body grows more malnourished and susceptible to disease……Genetic.” He informed, though that last part he was still unsure about. It was entirely genetic, but still capable of spreading from clone to clone somehow. He wondered if they were like certain types of fruit, in which if one spoiled the pheromones set off chain reactions in others that spend time in close proximity. 

No known virus, bacteria, fungus, prion, parasite, anything was known to cause it. Just solely being dealt a bad hand by the genetic lottery.

“And those two besides him are…?” Glimmer questioned, dread filling her as she was starting to grasp just what was about to happen.

“Yes…For that…” Tactus gravely answered.

Jones couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“These guys are fucking insane…” The old bat said with total soberity. He had heard his fair share of horrific things in the wastes. Cultists related stuff included. But the things he was hearing, the sheer unsettling quiet from the clones that were being brought for testification.

“We should…” Glimmer began, wanting to leave. But it was horrible, she couldn’t look away. She didn’t think she could bear to see it, but if she turned away and didn’t see it, she feared her mind would fill in worse details. This was the horror of what Prime’s forces were, and her people would have to face them.

She needed to know.

* * *

“You have been marked as impure, unfit for even rebirth or baptism in his Essence. What say you?” The Lieutenant pointed at the first one in the line.

I-314 spoke calmly, resigned to his fate.

“I am Impure, Cleanse my body and let me no longer crush this empire under my weight.”

I-315 spoke, repenting his actions.

“I am Impure, for I knew I was failing and I did not speak of it. Cleansing would be a blessing for one such as I.”

I-316 spoke, regretful for this outcome.

“I am Impure, but I hoped to do some good before I would fall. I only regret that I could not have fallen in battle. But would not choose any other brothers to fall besides.”

I-317 spoke, his voice trembling.

“I am Impure, and I ask for forgiveness. I did not mean to burden this company.”

I-318 spoke with pride.

“I am Impure, and I submit to your judgement. I know it is just, and fair. For Prime I would happily face this a thousand times.”

E-210 did not have any specific opinion. He was hollow at this point and merely repeated I-318’s words.

“I am Impure, and I submit to your judgement.”

E-211 spoke, begging for one last reprieve.

“I am Impure…but I plead with you. Let me do one more thing for Prime. Just one more thing in his name.”

As the final testification was taken in, the Lieutenant answered E-211.

“You are doing one thing for him. All of you show your devotion to him by standing here before us. Your devotion to him is appreciated, and your sacrifices shall not be forgotten.”

He continued, as the protocol stated. They were to have this action be praised, so that any further clones who may have impurities would feel more comfortable with coming forth and accepting such a fate. Simple, psychology to make even this be accepted.

“This testification is over. Maximum Charge.” The Lieutenant snapped his fingers. The two troopers at his sides gave one last nod to the Testifiers. Standing up. The Testifiers kept their heads bowed. Eyes shut tight.

The Masked Troopers lifted their Flamethrowers, adjusting the charge. It was one of the few courtesies afforded to a clone, though not entirely out of sincerity and appreciation. Not a single trace of them could be left to ensure this would be effective. A holdover from the days fighting the Aviarians, where even a single hunk of a clone body could spell disaster due to their reverse engineering.

The Congregation split to leave room for the flames.

When finally the dark deed was done, the Testified did not move, they did not scream, they did not cry. They simply ceased to exist, and the Lieutenant let out a deep pained breath.

“By Prime’s Will, it is done.” He says, the only trace left of them being the ongoing embers of the procedure.

“I want this fire put out, and the rest of you return to your positions.” He demands, turning around to return to the spire, to inform his Most Exalted that the matters he had specifically requested were taken care of to the very letter.

* * *

Catra trembled in her crate, having heard everything. These people were monsters, and her heart thumped in her chest from fear.

True and genuine fear.

Even Huntara looked white as a sheet. Hordak had sent soldiers to their deaths in combat plenty, or marooned both his own troops and enemy troops in far away lands to eventually succumb to the elements or starve to death. But this?

This wasn’t an ordinary army, this was a…cult? A Crusade? These people weren’t just evil, they were outright insane! They had just killed loyal troops for seemingly no real reason or fault of their own.

An army like that doesn’t just back down, or feel fear. They don’t get intimidated, and when their own leader wants them to die for the cause, how in all of sanity were they expected to do a thing about it?

“W-we’re screwed…” Huntara stuttered, curling into a ball and tucking her head down low. 

Catra panted, grabbing Huntara by the shirt.

“Huntara, we need to get out of here. Right now…our 2 hours are just about fucking UP, and I do not want to be here a minute longer, you?”

Huntara, her hope practically shattered barely registered Catra’s words. The feline having to give her a shake to get her attention.

“Hey, Answer me! You want to stick around here and find out what they do to rebels if they do that to their own people?”

Huntara didn’t need to be told twice.

“Right. RIGHT. We… _we_ need to get out of here.” She finally maintains, finding her voice and confidence again. Team “Badass” leaving their position with a newfound sense of dread as they learned ever more about their new enemy.

* * *

‘At least that’s 6 less clones to fight’, Tactus’ intrusive thought blared in his head. It was insensitive, maybe. But he had long since past the point of getting up in arms when it came to the Horde’s absurdity. They acted with such ruthless adherence to Prime’s insanity and attempts at perfection, that his own soldiers allowed such things to happen.

It was his own fault that such defects occurred, and even then, the defects could easily be managed if he just cared enough to let someone create a broad spectrum cure. But cures weren’t in Prime’s dictionary. Only needless death for the sake of pursuing his goal, not a single thought to the lives of even his own soldiers that he trampled underfoot.

Never stopping or caring about all the lives that were trampled on for the sake of his goal. Here Tactus was actually beginning to feel empathy for them, making him feel all the more hypocritical. He wasn’t even entirely sure clones had souls. He was conflicted, he hated them and all they stood for, but he didn’t want this.

It was a testament really, to how awful Prime could be. Here he was, an enemy soldier who felt even a smidgen, the tiniest hint of empathy for these people that had destroyed his world and kept him in bondage for the formative years of his life, and yet the person who gave them life. The person who made them in his own image for the explicit purpose to serve him cared not in the slightest.

Glimmer sobbed into her scarf, in disbelief of what she had seen. It made no sense to her.

She had killed clones in self-defense a plenty during their escape from the Citadel. Even a pre-emptive strike she could justify. But this? Killing your own? If they were sick, they needed treatment. Not this.

At the sight of Glimmer’s sobbing face, Tactus wrapped a wing around her. He didn’t think he had the words to say anything that’d be remotely helpful. But he knew that sometimes words weren’t enough.

Jones’ ears flattened against his head. Not wanting to hear anymore of the horridness going on below. Needing a full minute before he let his ears widen out again so that he could remain ready for whatever might happen.

“You two should go. I…I think I’ll keep watch on them for now. You two meet back up with whoever you got and do what needs to be done, and get the hell out of this place.”

Tactus pulled Jones into the hug. Glimmer hugging the old bat around the waist.

“Thank you.” She sniffled out. Tactus nodding and giving a morose little salute.

“Carry on. We’ll head out and inform the rest of them what’s we’ve learned.” The Owl attested, the pair eventually leaving the bat alone on the roof. 

The fellow feeling his hands tremble on his rifle for one of the first times in his life since he was a child. Gripping his wrist with a free hand to steady himself.

“What a world, eh Jonesy?” He asked himself, preferring the sound of his own voice to the unpleasant silence that came from the ground below.


	11. Negotiating With Evil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Kept you waiting huh? I'm back everybody! Sorry about the wait, a lot of stuff happened including my birthday, general arthritis in my hands, doing some moving and manual labor here and there and generally taking some me time in the middle of that and writing some other stories. But "Rising Phoenix" is BACK. Might not be as productive as my old self was with multiple chapters a week, but you shouldn't expect as long of a hiatus next time. Well enough rambling, enjoy the chapter!)

Bow’s head was swimming, he had been in and out of consciousness as the days passed. He had lost track of any sense of time staring at the walls of the Blood Arachnia. The steady supply of painkillers Scorpia had given him made him unable to think, or otherwise comprehend his surroundings.

Still, he stirred, suddenly finding himself with the overwhelming need to stand up, only to be pushed back down by a rough claw.

“Stay down, we’ve finally gotten moving.” Scorpia reassured, the soft vibrations of the Blood Arachnia’s modified engines humming through the ship. The vehicle hovering over the sands, casting them up behind them. Far below it’s usual speed.

Entrapta had done her best converting the tech, but anymore power outflowing from the engines of the Horde Bomber risked overloading the Blood Arachnia, stranding them yet again. It wasn’t perfect, but with the pressing need for them to move, it was the best she could do.

“With any luck we’ll be nearing the town, in just a couple hours!” The engineer chimed in. A lingering thought entering her mind.

She hoped they wouldn’t fault her too hard for taking the time to run the conversion of attaching the Bomber’s main cannon to the Blood Arachnia. It just seemed like such an easy thing to do while the programs ran their conversion executables for software interfacing.

It took her 30 minutes, but there was still the uncertainty in the back of her mind as to what her friends were thinking. It felt almost careless, but she hoped they understood that the main gun’s installation wasn’t just for her. They needed protection should anything go wrong, and the attachment of such a thing increased their overall survival odds.

But then again, Scorpia hadn’t had a whole lot of time to consider such things with helping take care of Bow. Even Entrapta had taken a few moments to help the woman rig up whatever was necessary to help.

Bow murmured a “Thanks” in his delirious state, his eyes beginning to water.

“I appreciate you people sooo much…thank you Scorpia…I love you guys…” He spoke, slurring his words as he did. Feeling extra emotional given his understanding of the circumstances, and the dream-like nature of his recent memories.

“It’s okay, it’s okay…” Scorpia repeated, placing her claws on his shoulders and pushing him down slowly. Not wanting him to sit up given his injury.

“We’ll be there soon.” She tried to affirm. Though in truth, she had her own doubts. It had been an uncomfortably long time since they had heard back from Adora and Micah. She wasn’t sure if their mission was completed just yet, but with how things were going with Bow they didn’t have much time left to spare sitting around and waiting for a contact. They’d sadly have to move now, without any certainty that their friends had even been located.

But, this was all that could be done. Silently, she dreaded the arrival into that town. Fearing that Adora and Micah’s journey had been less than successful.

* * *

The Surveying party had finally recollected after their work. Upon imparting their attained collective knowledge on the outpost, including the details of the “Testification” they had become aware of. A harsh silence befell them. None of them wishing to speak of the events that had occurred aside from the base-most amount of intel necessary for future combat engagements.

It took awhile to get Glimmer to calm down, at least visually. Internally, she felt like a dam on the verge of overflowing. There’s a specific feeling one confronts when they realize the type of people they fight. When they confront a level of resolve they found to be of a particular variant of insanity and devotion to a figure, despite that figures’ inherent cruelty to them.

So unflinchingly subservient and of the sure belief that they are valued, even when all evidence points to the contrary. Then crept in the fear. The fear of knowing that no matter of talking or diplomatic action would help. Their stubbornness and reverence was too unwavering.

If war was to quell an enemy into mere submission rather than annihilation, then how does one make such an enemy submit, when they have already submitted their entire existence to your downfall?

She was terrified that she would have to live through such days. She had grown up knowing that one day she’d have to fight for the rebellion, and take pride in knowing she was defending her home. But that was against an enemy that had, excluding Hordak, been born on her homeworld.

That was something reasonable. They were capable of feeling remorse, and even find their better judgement, as evidenced by their savior. Adora.

Oh, Adora…How Glimmer wished she were here now. Adora and Bow. Whenever things seemed darkest, she could always count on the two of them to give her some hope. With either Bow’s ceaseless optimism, or Adora’s uncanny ability to muscle through or find some way to win.

But what kind of win would this bring?

No, she had to stay strong, regardless of her doubts. Though she couldn’t help but wish someone in her party would reach out to help her right now, she needed someone to tell her things would be alright.

She was thankful for Tactus’ consolation before, but she wanted nothing more than to return to such an embrace. Even with the looming necessity to get the parts for the Speeder’s repairs.

Tactus was too busy caught up in his own sense of guilt. He regretted his inability to seemingly illustrate the severity of the threat they were facing. His carelessness to not stop them from having to witness such a cruel act.

But, loathe as he was to admit, his brother Decimus still influenced his decision making even now. He would’ve done the same, to make sure that this would be seen as an important lesson in the coming days. Knowing your enemy and their devotion is important to understanding their rationality and future battle plans.

Still, he felt that were his sister Talia alive he would receive an understandable reprimand for failing to achieve such a goal without taking such measures. Their combined suffering and trauma was his own fault, and he’d need to take the responsibility to fix this. But it was too soon for him to reach out.

They must resent him for this, and he could not blame them. He didn’t dare extend a finger to them, for fear she’d slap it away. His chest heavy with dread.

Catra pushed the images out of her head. How that clone burned until his muscles gave out and he collapsed. It made her sick to her stomach, that throbbing ache in her side causing her to wince.

It shouldn’t matter what they were fighting, only that they must fight. Though she couldn’t help but regret not switching sides sooner. She would have to be a big enough fool to wait for the war to turn tides so strongly that the enemy they’d be fighting would be so impossible to best.

Still, under her lead the Etherian Horde managed to hold out against the entire Princess Alliance for years, and made such remarkable plays that had the Frightzone been ever so slightly better defended, and the whole arrival of Horde Prime a non-factor, surely she would have lead the Etherian Horde to victory.

Huntara’s manner of coping was somewhat similar to Catra’s. Choosing to focus on the immediate needs and their current goals.

They were going to be late for their meetup with Beetle and Belial, and truth be told Huntara detested how critical this deal’s success would be to their plans.

She lagged back, letting Catra walk just infront of her.

“Mind if I take er,… _Grandpa_ Kowl from you Stardust?”

Glimmer was pulled out of her trance, letting Huntara convene with the Owl whom she clung to for the sake of their disguise. A disguise which Tactus was beginning to regret going so hard on for the appearance, as having to stoop down with a cane was hell on his back.

“Yes, of course Hu-, Rosie…” She passed him over, Huntara leaning down to Tactus’ level and taking him under the arm, pretending to help him as she leaned close to whisper in his ear.

“Ok, I think it’s about time you tell me what’s that thing you’ve been hiding tucked under your wing…” She finally addressed, having noticed the odd way he shifted his wings while walking and the oddest and almost smug confidence he had when he heard the species of their supplier.

Tactus, feeling his confidence sputter out like a punctured balloon questioned back.

“Is it that obvious?”

Huntara snorted, rolling her eyes.

“You’ve gotta find a better spot to hide it or we ain’t getting past the pat down where he inevitably takes our weapons, so what is it?”

Tactus sighed, reaching a hand into his cloak and pulling the small glass jar he had out slowly. Flashing it to Huntara for a second. It was Mama Bonham’s pepper shaker that he had swiped the day before, but it was filled with a bizarre almost green powder. The metal clasp keeping the powder sealed in tight.

“This, figured it’d give us the edge in there.”

Huntara, blinked, confused at what she was looking at exactly.

“Cool…what the fuck is it?”

As if the answer were simple, he responded.

“Piperine Extract…took me awhile to pull it from the pepper that used to be in there, but it should be worth it to see the look on their bug faces should they try anything…”

Huntara’s brow furrowed, wiping the sweat from her face and unintentionally a bit of the old age makeup off as well.

“Could you just tell me how that little thing is supposed to help us, or you want to just keep speaking in riddles?” Huntara snarked, not having the time for any of this.

“It’s an irritant for insects, we used to make something similar for the ones back home. Handful of this can even bring down a Macromantula.”

He exposited, shivering at the memory of the arachnids of his homeworld.

“Foul things…Could bite an Aviarian in half…”

Her ears perked up. He seemed confident in his ability, and given his previous stakes in such a similar situation, she believed him. Even if she wasn’t quite sure how he was able to pull something toxic from something so commonly edible, but lots of people she knew had weird allergies. Olivia, her old lackey, used to react violently to peaches of all things.

Would start to itch all over, even at her horns.

“Give it here then…” she insisted, plucking it from Tactus’ hands. Bringing her ample ponytail and curling it around with a hand, stowing their secret weapon in a neat little hair bun.

It was the safest place with the most access, and least likely to be checked in a pat down.

“That should hold…” Huntara checked, tugging on her bun to ensure it was just as stable as she presumed it to be. Giving Tactus a small wry smile for his ingenuity.

“Thanks, Kid.”

Tactus felt his heart nearly stop at the label she had bestowed upon him. Feeling himself brought back to his cell. The first time, when he was barely old enough to even grow his flight feathers. The eyes of those clones leering down at him with resentment and distaste. The Old Guard staring down at him, the only friendly eyes, but carved into that same horrid face that haunted him. Always those words whenever he was greeted.

‘Kid’

‘The Kid’

‘Hey Kid’

He felt his skin crawl at the idea of being back there in that situation again. As Huntara patted him on the back he didn’t dare mention it. He knew she didn’t mean to stir such awful memories of that room. Confined behind concrete and steel, that infuriating light which refused to ever shut off.

No, she meant it as a means to encourage and even seem friendly, but still he felt that tremble of anxiety. He hated the idea that he’d be so suddenly thrust back into a feeling of bizarre helplessness even when he knew he was no longer there. He was no longer in that cell, and regardless of the inherent discomfort of the sheer heat of the Crimson Wastes, Tactus accepted it.

Another reminder of his newfound freedom, he would prefer to live a thousand years in a place such as this then spend one more minute in that cell again. He’d need to inform Huntara of his displeasure at that wording another time.

But leading the pack, Catra struck up conversation with the Monarch of Brightmoon.

“You okay there, Sparkles?” Catra asks, forgoing the codenames they used. It’s not like Sparkles was her real name after all, and as cute as ‘Stardust’ seemed, it just felt too mystical for Catra. She couldn’t help but see Glimmer as that funny princess still. Though admittedly, she had hardened since they first met years ago.

She had gone from a royal who ran foolhardily into any fight, eager just to get a lick in, and standing in She-Ra’s and her parents shadows. But, had since become formidable from her mixture of magical and tactical skill in her own right.

Glimmer wasn’t sure what to say. Feeling to say she wasn’t okay would be to open up a can of worms she wasn’t quite ready to articulate yet, but neither felt compelled enough to lie by saying she was truly ‘okay’ when of course she wasn’t.

“I’m still in shock, that was…horrible wasn’t it?” she asks, needing to hear the confirmation from someone else. Catra’s ears flattening against the brim of her hat.

“Fucking crazy...being that brainwashed to just believe that Horde Prime was just looking out for their best interests…”

Catra shook her head, remembering the sight of a few of the clones shaking in fear before they died. Wondering how anyone could be so sure of his supposed excellency and superiority and continue to support such a horrid man. Even as he actively saw to their destruction.

How anyone could be so blind to what seemed so obvious to everyone else. Even as a kid she tried to rebel against everything the Horde was. There were times she believed that she could leverage the Horde power for her own personal gain, but to exist within a system that provided nothing to the people within it. Only serving as disposable pieces for someone else’s selfish goals?

Even the Etherian Horde had never been like that. It just made her all the angrier that she had helped bring these people to Etheria. She was no hero, but it didn’t take one to know evil. Every step she took, every breath she made, it would be in defiance of Prime.

It was one of the few things she was good at since she was born, defying a figure of supposed and unjust authority.

The feline tilted her hat with her free hand, lifting it up to look at the vast skies. Dotted green lights in the distance into the vast sky, the eyes of Prime and his fleet.

“Every time I think they can’t somehow find a way to be any worse, they of course feel the need to prove me wrong.”

She scowled, crinkling her nose in disgust at the many ships lingering just past the atmosphere of Etheria.

The air was uncomfortable between them, until Glimmer finally asked the question she had felt stirring inside her.

“Think we’ll win?”

Catra almost smiled, an odd sense of confidence welling up. With their own advantages, even in the face of such horror that was Prime’s Horde. They had the Princesses, whatever was left of the Etherian Horde, and more on the line than the clones were even capable of giving. 

“We’ll sure as hell not lose.”

Catra says, placing a hand on Glimmer’s shoulder for reassurance.

It was honest, and to the point, and maybe that was what Glimmer wanted to hear. She was so used to blind optimism, that when finally someone had truly understood how the odds were against them. Just knowing they wouldn’t lose, and all that entailed. Knowing there was a fight that needed to be done, a true pursuit and chance to challenge them rather than be crushed underfoot. They had a chance, and that was what Glimmer clung to.

Her eyes beginning to water, lifting her goggles up briefly so she could rub it away. Almost laughing at her appreciation for the feline. 

“Thank you, I needed that.” She grinned, still in shock that this was the same person she had been fighting for so long. How anyone could so quickly feel so cozy.

“No Problem Sparkles.”

* * *

Where there are people, there will be those who have more than others, those who will want, and those who choose to capitalize.

Such is why even in a place as heavily restricted as the newly occupied town of Blister, there was still a black market. Nero, the Fire Ant they had become acquainted with before in the central market, marched forward. His smock billowing as the wind picked up. His massive cutting blade glistening in it’s strap, shifting with each step he took.

“No sudden movements, you drop off all weapons with Beetle. Keep quiet, speak when spoken to.” He warned, one pair of arms behind his back, casually tightening the knot holding his apron in place before coming to a rest.

“Drop off our weapons?” Catra questioned, her ears twitching in fury at the suggestion they’d be forced into a position where they’d be virtually unarmed.

“Yes.” Nero repeated in his droning voice.

Huntara scoffed, stopping and holding her hands out to prevent the rest of the party from following the Ant.

“You expect us to walk into the den of Belial The Two-Faced, hand over our weapons, and just expect him to not execute us and steal all our money?”

“Yes.” Nero answered, ducking under a broken canopy. Not stopping even as he grew ever closer to being out of sight, forcing them to follow.

“Why?” Glimmer squinted, perplexed at the simpleminded way the Fireant seemed to tread, as if things were just so simple.

“You have come to trade, and we are in the business of making money.”

Passing by a dumpster he finds a corroded metal hatch besides a shack, leading to a basement. He tapped on the hatch with three sharp knocks and stepped back.

Tactus eyed the hatch curiously, and subsequentially the basement beneath it. His visor indicating there were several organisms of a remarkable size down there, though the traces were faint.

The biological structure of the presumed creatures was far too different from its recordable spectrum, barely registering at all. For once, he wasn’t entirely sure what they were walking into.

His fears compounded as the doors roughly flipped open with a slam. No discernible being in his visor’s sight. But with his own two eyes, he saw their antennae poke out, a dactyled finger beckoning them in. Its very appearance was unnerving.

“In.” Nero commanded, tottering down the steps and out of sight.

It need not be said amongst them. They were entering a criminal’s den, forcibly unarmed, such a situation required a tactful approach so as not to possibly escalate things.

Glimmer, had practically fought her way to the front. She needed to do this, to confront that bubbling sense of cowardice in the pit of her gut. She kept her head held high, stepping into the unknown.

Huntara hadn’t wanted that, trying to stay close to her. She had arranged this meeting, and she thought it best if she were to be infront so she could negotiate any issues, or need be muscle in and bust some heads.

There in the dark was a checkpoint. A massive metal door barely illuminating the dark space. Glimmer squinted her eyes, there, against the wall was some massive black blob she couldn’t discern.

She had to stop herself from lighting up the room with her magic. Once again, she found herself needing to stop herself, this time from shrieking as the blob beside Nero turned around. A massive black horn coming out of the top it’s head. Two beady blackened eyes staring down at her.

She muffled a yelp with her hand, as Tactus and Catra bounded down the stairs at the sound. Their keen eyes capable of discerning the beast.

He was stooped down in a low hunch, the ceiling of the basement rubbing into his horn. An 8 foot tall rhinoceros beetle. Shell as black as onyx, covered in splotches of blood. He pointed to the wall across from him.

“Argok Taz Vuhl!”

With the look of confusion on the Queen’s face, Huntara clarified it for her. Rolling her eyes as she spread her legs and placed her hands on the wall.

“He said ‘Against The Wall’. Nice to meet you again, Beetle.” She jeered, waving her hand to signal to the others to do the same against the wall.

“Hah hah! Hundara vish neh taa, TAA humorea!” He laughed, oddly jovial despite his title, as ‘Beetle the Butcher’.

Catra and Tactus exchanged an uncomfortable glance, sharing the same thoughts of uncertainty. Catra sighed as she got against the wall, not wanting to be first in line for the pat down.

Glimmer swallowed hard, taking her spot beside Huntara, with Tactus setting his medical bag down at his feet.

The So-Called Butcher went down the line, inspecting them as Nero watched on, standing at the door, both sets of arms crossed.

Huntara was calm and cool as he did his job. Subtlety adjusting her hips to draw attention to a set of throwing knives in her back pocket. It was bait of course, and like a careless fish, the prodding dactyls of the Beetle plucked them from her pocket. Assuming that was all she was hiding, alongside the collapsible staff on her hip.

“Nido…” Beetle muttered, passing the weapons to Nero and taking a step down the line. Working on Glimmer now.

It was an unpleasant sensation, as if someone decided to pick up a knobbly branch and run it down her whole body. Glimmer’s wings twitched as he got to them. It was bizarre how she had almost forgotten them, tucked under the poncho of her disguise away from any sensation.

He lifted her wings up a tad to check below them for anything, Tactus eyeing him as he did. It was a sensitive spot for anyone, and the rough way he worked down her wins made him want to reach over and kill him.

“Easy on her wings…” Catra growled out, taking a similar level of offense.

Beetle ignored her, finishing up with the Monarch and moving on to Catra without a care in the world.

Roughly patting, and smoothing over, Catra’s axe was taken.

“Nido…”

Burning wretched pain shot up Catra’s side. Beetle’s arm brushing over her new purple mark. She bit her lip, withholding a gasp of anguish. It felt as if someone had lit the spot on fire. A ragged breath escaped her, the feline gritting her teeth so as not to make another sound.

_That_ very obviously was not supposed to be happening. She wanted to curse and spit at the Beetle, even though he had done nearly nothing. But somehow her entire side felt like he had taken a bite out of her. It was almost as bad as being shot again, slowly dulling and growing numb.

Tactus glanced over and noticed Catra’s heart rate spike. His eyes widening in fear.

“Are you…?”

“Later…” Catra choked out, Beetle not seeming to care. The Feline was incredibly good at hiding her pain, but Tactus knew she was holding herself back. The pathetic eyes he saw told him the truth. She needed to hide it until the deal went through.

Tactus’ mind raced for a solution. Pulling Catra out of here might help her with her discomfort, which gauging by the way her heart raced seemed to be immense. But if he left there was no telling what would happen should they leave Glimmer and Huntara to undoubtedly be outnumbered.

Reluctantly, he resigned himself to the situation before them. Opting to stick close to Catra should something happen.

“Yi varr. Moart ulon!” Beetle backs up from Tactus. The Aviarian not having even noticed the Beetle had already searched him, having been too swept up in worry. Nero Picking up their collective gear and pressing the button on the door with his elbow.

“You’re Clean. Move along.” Nero translated stepping out of the way.

Catra grimaced at both the throbbing in her side and the hatchet upon the floor.

“Nn...Let’s get this over with…” She hissed through clenched jaw.

As they entered into the next room, they finally began to understand the sheer power Belial held over the town of Blister.

Beneath a seemingly innocuous shack was a basement the size of a warehouse. Shelves on the walls and tables all over, covered in scrap pieces, materials, weaponry and fuel cells. Scratched off Horde Logos on the countless pieces of salvage. Magical artifacts and staffs, under lock and key in cases. Armor plates and shielding.

At least 40 barrels, giant drums filled to the top with drinking water. Catra recognized the crates beside them with freeze dried food and ration bars. The room was lit up by the lights within freezers lining the entire back wall. They had to have been stolen or sold, and the amount of soldiers they had likely lost from these missing supplies no doubt contributed to the failing morale she had seen in the Etherian Horde’s last days.

Freezers filled with blood bags, of every type and color. Medical supplies, even the odd potion and other chilled elixirs. Everything. He had everything.

Tactus was horrified by the sheer number of the blood bags on racks. Even back home, the longest they could reach to extending blood’s viability was up to a hundred days past donation. But he knew Etheria wasn’t nearly close to that capability without at least obvious magical use. At best, they could last 45 days. If these blood bags were to be presumably sold, which meant either they were far past expiration, or debatably more awful, potentially fresh. Which only begged the question once again of _where_ someone could get ahold of such goods.

What kind of person could find a way to attain this and through what means? The question need not be asked further. For, there he was, sitting at a desk in the middle of the room. Belial The Two Faced, and now that they saw him, they finally understood the name.

He was a Mantis, or perhaps they were a mantis. It was hard to tell whether they counted as one individual or perhaps two. He was massive, the desk seemed small beside him. Huge peering eyes, his front legs in that same position they were named for. But it was his head that was so horrifying, for he had two of them. Or maybe it was one large head? Combined at the side, one massive eye in the center between both halves of his conjoined head.

Glimmer wanted to vomit. Those eyes were cold and dead, filled with such a disturbing gaze that he seemed to be sizing her up as she got closer. He did not blink, merely staring as intently as if she were a grasshopper. His mandibles twitching upwards to scrape his eyes clean, as those horrifying little pupils drilled through her skull. 

“Belial.” Huntara deadpanned, capturing the Mantis’ attention.

Belial finally took his eyes off Glimmer, antennae twitching towards Huntara, who came ever closer. Both mouths opened at once, the voices being so minutely dissimilar that they resonated. A sound as chilling as his appearance.

“Huntara…I heard you were the one setting up this deal and I couldn’t believe it. To what do I owe the pleasure?” His voice oozed with a sense of satisfaction at the mighty Huntara coming before him and asking for _his_ wares.

This was the reason why he had chosen this profession. When you have the things people want, they’re more willing to show you some modicum of respect. To own was to be powerful. To own their desires, you own their fates. Perhaps he had come to this conclusion and this lifestyle as a result of his own hatred for an awful childhood of mockery, or perhaps he was just relishing in such primal desires as an insect known to predate on other species. Perhaps this was his means of which he chose to predate on as many as he could?

Whatever the reason, it didn’t necessarily matter at the end of the day. He was here now, and he was what stood between most people and getting the supplies that they needed in such a crisis as this.

As such, Huntara was not one to enjoy playing his foolish games.

“You know why. Your boy Nero over there implied you had what we wanted, and it certainly looks like you got everything. Certainly kept us waiting long enough.” Huntara griped, knowing that with these types you couldn’t back down. To show weakness was to allow someone like this the chance to capitalize on such failure. In his case, likely through overcharging.

Once more his mandibles cleaned his eyes, dully he continued to stare. Motioning with a claw to the chairs infront of his desk. A pair of makeshift couches.

“Sit.”

It was a powerplay, to which Huntara refused.

“I’m good standing.”

Catra too recognized this, but her pain was too great as she huffed out a sigh.

“Dibs then…” she weakly smiled, plopping down onto the couch. Tactus keeping close, he rested his hands on the backrest of the couch just behind her.

Glimmer stood beside Huntara with her eyes planted firmly on the Mantis. He made an odd clicking chirp, cocking his head to somewhere behind him.

“Very well, Nero. Get the part.”

Nero slinked off into the shadows out of sight. Beetle sidestepping infront of the entrance. A massive wall that blocked any potential escape. The air felt stale, drenched in uncomfortable silence as Belial waited at his desk. Barely moving, even as he spoke. 

“I must apologize for the wait. We hold a great many vital pieces of importance in this area. I understand you are looking for a Horde Gen 2, Flux Condenser and Radiator. Specifically, one with a 40-millimeter to 25-millimeter conversionary attachment?”

“It’s all on the paper…” Huntara sneered. Less chatting the better. This was a business deal after all.

“I understand you wish to pay in gold, but I can’t help but notice you have something more valuable I require.”

Belial commented, his eyes lingering on Glimmer as he spoke.

Glimmer expected such depravity in the wastes, but it made the insinuation no less vile.

“Excuse me?”

Her own pain disappearing momentarily with rage, Catra bolted up from her seat, the very breath she breathed grew hot.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Tactus wished that he still had the piperine extract at that moment, so he could force the insect to swallow it. His claws digging into the couch so deep he nearly punctured his own palms.

Huntara leaned forward, getting in Belial’s face. One of them at least.

“We trade gold, not friends, never. I oughta kill you right where you sit just for implying that was ever on the table.”

Belial was unmoved, his mandible scraping his eyes to remove whatever flecks of spit came from Huntara’s bout of fury.

“Huntara, this is a business deal. Surely you understand that negotiation is key to a deal going through.”

Belial almost grinned, or whatever could be considered a grin for him.

“Fuck that…you take the gold and we get the part, that was the deal.” Catra interjected. 

Tactus’ wrenched his claws from the sofa. He was sick of multi-eyed green monsters trying to do such horrible things in his life.

“How dare you sit so content, when you have suggested something so repugnant.”

Again, those mandibles crossed over his eyes as Belial sat unfazed.

“It doesn’t have to be the girl. You get to keep your gold, but it can be any of you three interlopers.”

Belial placed a small holochit on the table. Tapping a button as the three of their faces suddenly appeared in a green hologram. 

“Any of you would make incredibly lucrative bargaining chips for any future dealings with our new leaders. I merely ask for _One._ A kindness really…You should consider yourselves lucky those clones out there are terrible at facial recognition. The fact you made it this far is almost impressive given your disguises.”

Nero returned, holding a crate covered in locks, combination and otherwise. They had locked it up practically a hundred times over after Nero tipped him off on who they were. 

Huntara knew this would happen. She knew it, and the moment after they killed this bug she wanted to rush back to Mama Bonham for a hearty ‘I told you so’ soup followed by a side of sliced ‘I was fucking right’.

“You’re an idiot.” Glimmer’s voice broke the tension. Catching both Huntara and Belial off guard, them both looking back at her.

She walked forward, pushing Huntara out of the way to get into Belial’s face. It was her turn now.

“You have all these supplies, enough to fund a revolution and keep your town supplied for years, but NOOOOO. No, you’re actually dumb enough to think negotiating with Horde Prime is a possibility. You genuinely think that’s an option?”

Glimmer exploded into a tirade, not sure which of his faces she should shout into, so instead supplied enough contempt for both to have their fill.

“He had the entire Etherian Horde in this sector annihilated. I had to see him order for his own soldiers executed today because they were ill, and it was his own damn fault. Catra over there was mind controlled by him, Tactus was enslaved for fucking years, but you, OH YOU think you’re smart enough and convincing enough that you think turning us over is somehow going to magically make things work out for you?”

Glimmer cackled with laughter at how absurd that sounded. Releasing a pent-up rage at the people like this whom existed. The people that held them back and caused countless deaths from their incompetence and unwillingness to do a thing to help. She no longer felt the anger towards herself for her own lack of aide offered to the people of the Crimson Wastes.

She may have been a royal, inherently in a better place financially then anyone else. But when push came to shove, she shoved harder. When the Horde knocked on her door, she was willing to fight, even when she was just a child. She wasn’t anything like this abomination sitting across from her.

“It’s NOT. You’re just going to hand over your only chance at surviving another day to sell your stolen goods, and maybe doing something good in your existence for a change, instead of sitting here in the dark like the greedy little war profiteer you are.”

Belial’s antennae twitched in the aftermath of Glimmer’s speech. Ordinarily he would be angry, had he bothered to listen. But something else caught his eye, glinting inbetween the silvery strands of Huntara’s bun.

The mantis made and odd clicking noise. Nero and Beetle beginning to move from their positions on their boss’ orders. Beetle grabbing a massive blade off from one of the tables, easily as long as Glimmer was tall. Nero plucking the butchery knives from his apron as they began to surround them.

Belial slowly stand up from his desk, towering over all of them at nearly 11 feet tall, his massive serrated front limbs being all the more imposing as they scraped against his metal desk as he stood. Slicing it through like butter.

“These negotiations are over.”

Catra and Tactus readying themselves against the advancing enemies claws out. Tactus dropping his robe entirely for better mobility, and Catra standing even through her pain. Huntara reached for the vial in her bun, desperately trying to pull it free, their one ace in the hole. But standing up amongst them all, was the Queen herself. Glimmer summoned forth her staff in her hands, glaring down the bug many times her size with all the confidence of someone who were merely dealing with an ordinary sized pest. She gripped her staff tightly, already thinking of a myriad of different spells to unleash upon him. She was going to enjoy this. 

“Over? Oh-hoh-hoh, I'm just getting started!”


	12. Red-Handed

Catra had always had a not-so-great life, but never in her life did she ever expect to be teamed up with a Princess, a Horde Deserter, and an alien birdman fighting giant bugs in some crappy little basement storehouse while she was about 90 percent sure her kidney or appendix was on the verge of exploding, but here she was.

Her sights set on Beetle the Butcher, even as he advanced with his massive sword. She could feel the heat rising in her chest. Her own reflection staring back at her as purple fire flew from her mouth.

“If you think you’re gonna kill me with that shiv

you should’ve brought a bigger blade…”

She took two steps before that spike of pain hit her, and even the residual magic left from whatever the old Phoenix Fire had done wasn’t enough to dull the pain. Her legs’ shook under her and she nearly toppled. Tactus, ever the dutiful and at her side, slipped under her arm at that pivotal moment of weakness.

“Gotcha…”

“Fuck! Get off me!” Catra shrieked, not wanting him to have grabbed her at all. She would’ve preferred collapsing and death rather than to look weak at that moment. But try as she might, it was unavoidable as her body burned from the inside.

Beetle let out a bellowing laugh of victory. Raising his sword up in an overhead slash, bringing it down over them. Tactus’ closing his wings over them both. Crystalizing over in an instant, they were protected as Beetle’s weapon shattered against his wings.

Belial split the desk open, tearing through it to make his way towards Glimmer. Glimmer lifted a hand, a whip of magical energy shooting out from her wrists and curling around his neck. Electricity surging from her hands up the length. Belial seemed to almost smirk as he, unbelievable as it might be, reached out and _severed the magical whip_ with his serrated limbs.

Glimmer’s entire hand tensed up as her power recoiled. She was in shock, no one could just cut such a line with ease. Belial sneered down at her with a smugness that implied he had been waiting for her to try that.

“Wh-what?” Glimmer gasped, Huntara pulling her back by the collar, as with a flick of his wrist Belial slashed at the space where Glimmer’s head had been seconds prior. Nero, flanking around spat his own fire at them.

“Oh, you’re gonna love this…” Huntara exclaimed, having finally freed the vial of Piperine from her hair bun. Tossing it at Belial, underestimating the durability of the glass as it bounced off his head and seemed to sail over to Nero. Shattering on contact, and eliciting a guttural wail of pain as Nero dropped his butchery knife. Grabbing himself as he collapsed to the floor in agony. Very quickly going completely still. Dead.

“Shit.” Huntara muttered, seeing their chance to bring down either of the big two problems wasted on arguably the most benign of the bunch.

CRACK

Beetle slammed his head down, his horn colliding against Tactus’ crystals, his wings straining against his blow.

“I HAD IT HANDLED.” Catra hissed, but Tactus seemed to ignore what was happening, even as Beetle threatened to crush him then and there. Grabbing Catra’s face and looking into her eyes. He had seen the spikes in her heart rate before this, but he felt dread enter his own heart as he realized the severity of what he had been missing.

Both of Catra’s eyes were slowly tinting yellow, a symptom he had missed due to her heterochromia. But, not just that, her blood vessels were turning an unmistakable purple. Hard as it was to tell given the fire bursting from her, she even felt warmer than what seemed healthy, she was running a fever.

The Phoenix Fire’s magic for her alien biology, the regeneration of massive portions of her body, her taking more of the Phoenix Fire than any normal person could handle. The frequent pains in her side, the left over purple mark. He was a fool to have not considered it.

Tissue Rejection, likely from some misreplicated spot in her body. The genetic rewriting left over from the elixir. She couldn’t pass or process the elixir properly, because the systems in her body meant to do so properly no longer had enough functionality to do so.

“By The Phoenix, your liver’s failing.” Tactus blurted in alarm.

Catra’s mouth hung open at the startling revelation, dumbstruck. Time felt as if it was slowing down, her ears ringing and Tactus’ face beginning to blur as she found herself slowly lose her grip on reality.

‘your liver’s failing’ his words echoed, resonating deep within her skull. Bouncing off the walls of her mind and clouding her thoughts. She wasn’t even aware the fight was still going.

“Kas, Ederiun, KAS” Beetle placed a foot on Tactus’ wing’s, leaning forward as he tried to crush through his shields. The Rhinocerous Beetle’s immense strength made the pain agonizing. Every single minute nerve ending beneath the crystals began to scream, as Tactus was unable to move.

His screech rang out, as he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold up his shields for much longer. Beetle was simply too strong.

Glimmer’s head flicked back to the cocoon of crystals Tactus and Catra were hidden within.

“Huntara, GO. I’ve got Belial.”

Huntara was reluctant to leave Glimmer to her own devices to fight Belial on her own, but ultimately gave her a swift pat on the back. For encouragement, knowing she was needed elsewhere. 

“Knock’em dead Princess.”

“That’s Queen to you.” She smirked, as Belial hissed, raking his serrated limbs together as if to sharpen them for the battle.

Huntara snorted with an almost proud grin for Glimmer as she stormed toward Beetle as he threatened to squash Tactus and the almost Catatonic Catra.

Smashing open one of the glass cases with a fist, Huntara pulled out the first thing she could get her hands on, pulling the gargantuan device out and standing infront of Beetle before she was even fully sure what she was holding.

It had Horde markings, but in all her time fighting Horde that had wandered into the wastes and her own tenure she had never quite seen one of these.

A bizarre generator with a ripcord attached to the end of some cluster of chains around a band. Covered in little tiny saw teeth that wrapped around the long holder.

Now was not the time to hesitate too much on exactly what the peculiar object was or could do. Gripping the ripcord and the trigger under the grip. Tugging hard as the motor inside sputtered, each time.

But in a bellowing roar, the Chainsaw revved to life. Sending rust and dust into the air and creating a smoke cloud for Huntara to walk through.

She had Beetle’s attention now.

“If you wanna pick on someone smaller than you, how’sabout I cut you down to size?”

She delivered her ultimatum, the bug removing his crushing weight off of Tactus’ wings.

“Move.” Huntara ordered to them, the field medic’s shields dropping as he scrambled to his feet, slinging Catra over his shoulder and bounding away.

Ducking under a swipe Belial had made at them, which Glimmer capitalized on. Channeling energy into a swing of her staff and slicing through the joint of his arm at its weakest spot.

He hissed in pain, the back of his abdomen suddenly bursting open. Wing’s freeing themselves from captivity as he made a flying lunge at her.

Glimmer, still unable to teleport from her time on Prime’s ship, barely dodged out of the way. Her own wings freeing themselves as she fluttered out of his path.

Huntara kited Beetle away from Belial. Using the massive insect as a wall between her and the Mantis. Circling around as she slashed at his hardened shell. Sparks flying up as he lumbered in circles, trying to get her back in his sights. Bringing his head down for yet another wild charge, flipping tables and sending countless weapons to the ground.

Belial swung his remaining good arm at Glimmer, uttering a disturbing question as he did.

“I’ve always wondered what Princess tastes like.” He questions, having changed his mind about selling her by this point. Things had been made personal with the loss of a limb.

Glimmer conjured in an instant a simple rune, sending it at him a slightly slower and lazier way then she ordinarily would, and like a fool her slashed at it in midair. The rune disappearing just as instantaneously. A soft glow now visible on the tips of his saw-like serrated edges.

She was right to have taken his arm, something about those serrations were canceling out her magic. He was quick and able to react fast enough to stop most runes she’d send.

Her knuckles turning white against her staff, she put forth that same charge upon it. Giving her the edge in her swing she needed to hit him with the physical force necessary to do some real damage.

“Keep wondering.” She retorted. Enraged, Belial sprung at her. Glimmer almost laughed; she had caught him in feint. Spinning around him across his weakened left side and driving her staff home. Right into his now exposed wings, clipping them with ease in her swing.

Beetle grabbed an axe off the floor. Wildly swinging at the constantly evading Huntara in a backwards twist. Knicking Huntara’s arm as she came down with a downwards flick of her chainsaw. Cleaving his offending arm off, pieces of carapace shattering and flinging themselves all over before she thrusted forward into his softened underbelly. Bringing her swing up farther and farther as a foul green sludge began to pour from him. His head twitching as he made one last gambit. Springing towards her in one last attempt at a tackle.

But he was already on his way out, barely alive. Huntara merely had to step back as he fell on her chainsaw. Though perhaps there was something to the supposed “Beetle the Butcher”, as his body caught on the chainsaw, bringing it to a grinding halt.

Belial’s back to her, Glimmer saw her chance. She leapt onto his back, securing herself with her staff at his throat. The mantis flailing and bucking in vain, anything to remove her from him. Slamming her staff firmly into the joint at his neck below both his heads, she kept it firm as she channeled her magic through her staff.

A searing hot spell, bouncing back and forth between each hand that ached to hold in place. But Glimmer persisted, no matter how much her chest ached, and her head throbbed from the concentration required to do this.

He tried to reach his claw out to strike at her, but she seemed to sway out of the way at just the perfect moments. Her staff embedding itself deeper and deeper into his neck until finally he began to grow limp, and Glimmer found herself flung back.

Both of his heads completely severed, startling the poor queen, who had simply forgotten that he had no bones to speak of. She had merely meant to break his neck or choke him out, not completely decapitate him. She screamed in horror as she kicked his head away, clutching her chest.

“SORRY!” She shouted, out of some odd sense of guilt. He had it coming, but again. _Decapitation_. Not an easy thing to do or feel right about afterwards.

Huntara found herself legitimately impressed with Glimmer’s handling of Belial, despite her own cloak being covered in liquified beetle, she found the time to make a comment of approval.

“Remind me to never piss you off…”

Belial’s antennae still twitched on the floor, one of his two mouths opening and closing uselessly as his mandibles cleaned his eyes, entirely automatically. 

Glimmer, feeling a wave of nausea hit her, barely got back up to her feet before rushing to the nearest trash can and retching inside. As one does when they see a disembodied head suddenly begin to move again.

It was so needlessly graphic, that Glimmer found herself more homesick for Brightmoon than ever before. She wanted a long shower, or bubble bath. Maybe a trip to Mystacor where she could have a spa day and pretend like all this had never happened, as she felt more and more of her lunch escape her. Feeling disgusted at the taste of that barbecue sauce from earlier that day upon her lips again.

Although by no means was this the worst day of her life, it was certainly a contender for her top ten.

As she heaved and hurled, Huntara grimaced at her exceedingly soiled clothes. Flicking some of the goop from her fingers, wondering if Tactus might have any weird cleaning tricks up his sleeve.

Though now that the chaos of the battle was off her mind, it occurred to Huntara that she had no idea where Tactus and Catra had went at all.

“Hey Glimmer, you know where the fuck the other two went?”

* * *

Tactus ducked under Belial’s swing, sprinting with his mind full of old memories.

Having to drag or carry friends and comrades away from the front lines of the Horde’s assaults. One of the first lessons he had to learn, was the necessity of amputation. The willingness to sacrifice a lost cause for the sake of the whole. Such was what he was expected to do if a person were too injured in the heat of battle. The cost of saving them might be too great, and endanger more lives in the long run.

One part of him was screaming to just move Catra far enough so he could run back and assist in the battle against Beetle and Belial. But the other part knew that Catra’s condition would’ve left her open to attack no matter what, and they had come too far to lose anyone now. Glimmer was strong, as was Huntara seemingly. He’d have to trust them to hold them off, just as he had to trust so many friends during the fight for his home.

Tactus b-lined through a door in the back of the basement, shouldering it open as Catra groaned in his arms, coughing up more and more of that purple fire. Her head lolling with each step as he left the battle. She had completely lost consciousness from pain.

They were in a dingy backroom with a long metal table, surrounded by even more medical supplies. An overhead lamp swaying loosely, and a sink in the corner.

He couldn’t believe it; it was exactly what they needed. It was as perfect as one could hope for in this situation. Though not nearly as clean as he could want, but he had worked in less optimum conditions.

Placing her down on the table, Tactus tried to ignore the battle outside. He had to block it out now. Any hesitation, any failure to act as needed would be disastrous.

**CLICK** , and the door was locked by a strong deadbolt.

A brief cleanse of his claws with a conveniently placed alcohol-based soap.

“Why is it always you?” He asked the unconscious feline, cracking his knuckles as he got a better look at his materials to work with. He had a full cabinet filled with conventional medical supplies, and even the odd potion he didn’t quite recognize. Giving them a speed read.

“Heart’s Content, no. Tissue Cleanse…better, Oh thank the Phoenix. A Quick Clotting Potion.”

He plucked the Quick Clot and Tissue Cleanse, popping the corks on both and taking a sniff. Watered down. His sense of smell was terrible, but if he couldn’t smell it at all it was a weakened potion, but he knew a trick. Plucking two of his more significantly purple feathers with a wince, letting the tips of them touch the potion within and immediately seeing a more vibrant change.

Thankful for his Sister Talia for showing him that trick as a child. Letting the potion feed off the natural magic that resided within their bodies.

Now that the potions were set, he could check on Catra’s actual condition. Covering one earhole to block out the noises from the other room, placing the side of his head to her hip where the pain had come from.

He concentrated as her blood flowed, her body was processing what it could, and his eyes lit up as he realized that he could hear something very small. A strain of flow, a blockage somewhere.

Right underneath the purple spot where she, barely a week ago, had a hole going straight through her. Tactus began to wonder if perhaps he had judged the situation far too quick.

Kidney stones was unlikely, she had to regrow an entire kidney very recently. Plus, the fact she almost overdosed on Phoenix Fire, then taking into account it was an entirely alien biology, and Tactus began to feel as if he had figured it out. This would take a significantly more surgical approach that previously thought, but at the very least this wasn’t as severe as he expected.

She actually stood a greater chance at survival than previously expected. Knowing what it’d take, he searched for the anesthetic, unfortunately, just as Catra began to stir, blinking drowsily and wincing at the pain.

The sound of chainsaws revving outside amongst the rest of the commotion ignited her fight or flight as she wanted to suddenly run. Feeling the table and seeing the lights, sure that she was about to be cut into pieces and probably served up as food or whatever absurd psychopathic things happen to people who wake up in places that seemed like this.

“Oh god, OH GODS.” She screamed in terror, suddenly trying to get

“Easy, Catra. It’s me!”

Tactus reassured, placing a hand on Catra’s shoulder and slowly easing her back down to lie on the table.

“Where?....I…” She sputtered as her side throbbed in pain, collapsing back into the table and writhing.

“GAH, SHFH _FUCK_.”

“Stay down, please.” Tactus pleaded, looking for some type of anesthetic or other numbing agent. Finally finding a large vial’s worth. He was ecstatic momentarily, before reading it more carefully and realizing it was little more than a local anesthetic. Not nearly enough to put her under, but it’d have to do. An idea struck him, and he focused his concentration on his wings. Trying to localize the hardening of the crystals to a small section of his wings. It was difficult, but with a touch of careful precision he only crystalized an upper segment, plucking the crystalized hunk and relaxing.

The crystal remained hardened in it’s state away from Tactus’ body. Curiously, he scratched at it with the talon on the end of his thumb, finding that it glittered underneath and pulsed, filled with even more magic than an ordinary feather. Delighted he let some of the shavings enter the anesthetic vial, the vial beginning to bubble effervescently.

Personally, delighted that he may have just made the most significant discovery of his own self-worth, he almost didn’t hear Catra. Pocketing the crystalized feather for later use.

“Glimmer’s...Where…” Catra mumbled, glancing at the door as she heard screams on the other side. She once again tried to stand but fell back to the table with a huff.

“Don’t just stand there…forget about me, help them!” She breathed out in exasperation. Giant owl that he was with such big talons would be better suited saving them over her.

“They have it handled, and we need to trust them.” Tactus relayed his thoughts. Hoping if he said it enough, he could find himself believing it too. Pushing a new syringe into the vial and pulling the plunger with the tip of his thumb.

Glimmer was tough, Catra knew that. But she couldn’t abide by sitting back here while they were fighting and being ‘cared for’.

“Your condition is even more serious than I thought, I need to operate now or you’re dead. Now lie back, please.”

He advised, turning around with the needle. The fluid inside seemed to glitter and sparkle in a dazzling glow.

“…Life or Death, huh? Fuck me…” Catra muttered in exasperation lying back down with a sigh. Closing her eyes,and extending an arm out to be put under.

“Rather not.” Tactus replied, not thinking through what she said all that hard. Foregoing her arm and injecting straight into her side.

The newly enhanced anesthetic was strong, as Catra opened her eyes again to see what Tactus was doing, completely unaware she had even been injected aside from the complete removal of pain.

“… _What_.”

“Haha! Aviarian Medicine.” He grinned, setting the vial down and searching for a razor.

“Wait, Hold up. I’m going to be _AWAKE_ for this? _Should_ I be?!?” Catra asked, about to stand up and object but suddenly found she couldn’t move anything below her waist at all.

“Ideally? No. But strengthening local anesthetic to the point of being a full anesthetic is dangerous, even for me to do.” Tactus admitted, finding a razor in a drawer after such searching.

Catra’s ear twitched as she realized there was a shocking silence outside. The fight was over. She was trying to pay attention, but now that she couldn’t move her legs in the slightest, she wouldn’t even be able to run if things had turned sour.

“Tactus…”

The Owl noticed the uncomfortable silence too. Now that the battle was over, his disposition to things had changed. Tiptoeing to the door and slowly tilting his head to listen to the other side. Nearing the door with his head before recoiling as a sudden and thunderous knock came on the door.

“Hey what’s going on in there!?” Huntara’s voice echoed from the other side. Tactus clutched his chest, and Catra too felt as if she almost pissed herself. Though in truth the lack of feeling she had made her concerned that perhaps she had.

“Performing surgery. Stay out.” Tactus dryly answered back, Huntara fumbling with the door handle. The owl not bothering to open it.

“Very funny, come on out.”

“It wasn’t a joke.” Tactus flicked the razor on, stepping over to Catra and getting to work shaving the area he’d have to cut from.

“I’m dying apparently…Uh, wait you haven’t even told me what it is actually.” Catra realized as Tactus snipped Catra’s jumpsuit to give him clear access. Shaving her fur bare and dusting the area off.

Glimmer, who had barely recovered from the incidence before went wide-eyed as she heard Catra.

“You’re performing surgery on her while _SHE’S WIDE AWAKE_?!” she shrieked in horror.

Catra, whom had never had a real surgery before did not need to hear that. Her confidence over the procedure waning.

“It’s not that major…I mean it’s life or death but it’s a uh…simple enough fix. Just don’t come in right now, if you do things get complicated on sterility wise…it’s already very difficult here.”

Tactus tried to reassure, finding a good alcohol solution to disinfect the skin with, wiping it down thoroughly to avoid infection. In truth he had never done a procedure for this type of thing before, even if he knew what he was going in to find. Such a thing was incredibly rare, but documented at least for his people.

“I believe Catra has an Alchemist’s Cyst…It’s a rare occurrence when it comes to using large amounts of healing potion magic too quickly. Fluid can’t all filter through and in some cases, it seals itself on inside the body in a little boil filled with the fluid.”

Tactus answers, resterilizing his hands and cocking his head to advice Catra to look away. Not needing further encouragement, she chose a part of the wall to look at as Tactus began his work. Using his careful scalpel sharp talons to make his incisions.

“Phoenix Fire is a particular issue cause it’s not made for your species specifically. Some adaptions? Sure. But I think there’s one attached to her kidney, or maybe right on her adrenal gland. So everytime she gets stressed it sends a bit more of itself to flow through her body, but it’s also damaging cells and flooding her liver with the stuff. Liver’s getting overtaxed, hence near liver failure and the jaundicing I’m seeing in her eyes…now please let me do my job, Glimmer.”

He insisted, not needing to feel their eyes through the door as he did this.

It was insane sounding, and she barely held onto what he was saying. She wasn’t anywhere close to skilled in medicine, but she supposed it made sense. There was a reason why alcohol was banned in Mystacor after all.

Huntara placed a hand on Glimmer’s shoulder.

“I don’t know jack about science or magic, but if what he’s saying is true, we should let the guy work. Come on. We still need that part.”

She didn’t want to leave that door, but she knew that Huntara was right.

With a heavy heart she conceded.

“Ok. Tactus, you take care of her. And Catra…” Glimmer paused, she had faith Catra would be alright but still her doubts lingered and ate away at her mind.

“Hang in there.”

Catra sighed, giving a nod that she knew Glimmer wouldn’t see. Closing her eyes. Not wanting to see Tactus operating on her.

“So…cyst huh?” She began, admittedly wanting to know more about what was happening to her. Tactus, was more than interested in chatting about his findings as he slowly got to work.

“That’s right. I drain it, and your body should more or less heal right away. I think it’s sitting right ontop of your adrenal gland, like I said. Accounts for everything…” He answers, slowly opening her up in the tiny little square of workspace he allotted himself. Being as delicate as he can to avoid letting too many particulates in, but that’s what the tissue cleanse would do anyways. His head swiveling around to check behind him, seeing it was almost done.

“Is that what’s been causing all the rest of this…magic and growth I’ve been going through? The big purple cat?”

She asks, almost disappointed. Suddenly having magical powers only to have them be taken away because they’re killing her sounded exactly like how her life would go. Why should she have any of the fun?

“Well…yes and no. I’m not sure. You’re definitely being affected by the Phoenix Fire, but the thing about it is it also works as a…catalyst. You know what a catalyst does, right?”

Tactus blathered, raising a brow to Catra. Not that she could see it.

“…It’s like a thing that causes something else to happen, right?”

“No. Well, sort of. In simplest terms, a catalyst just makes things that ordinarily would be very difficult, much easier to do. That’s why it heals so quickly, and also causes reactions with more latent genes. So…and this is a very large maybe…you might actually be magically inclined. Deep down that is…”

‘Magically inclined.’ It was a hell of a thing to hear. Her, Catra of all people ,capable of doing magic too.

“Genetic? Wait…does that mean I’m a, like one of my parents, my real ones…”

Tactus gave a small hooting chuckle.

“Yes, maybe. Or grandparent, someone down the line had magical capability…Ah I believe I’ve found it.”

Tactus noted, looking inside and spotted it. Eye’s widening.

“I’m…not going to give you the details, but I was right. It’s sitting right on your Adrenal gland, think even attached it. Some of the veins on it are, still vibrantly purple. I think I’ll be able to drain it and clean the site with ease.”

He noted, reaching for another clean syringe. He was a tad excited for this, he might actually be able to salvage and reprocess the fluid into pure Phoenix Fire again. A priceless relic to his people’s ingenuity, no longer lost.

Catra hesitated, speaking up. Her voice shaking in a bizarre sense of loss.

“You’re…wait. I won’t be able to do any of that stuff again, anymore. Will I?”

Tactus paused, considering what she said.

“Well…Hmm. I’m not sure. But-“

“Because…I....can you not get rid of all of it? This is, the first time I’ve ever really had something like this. Something that levels me out against all those princesses. If I’m going to be working for the rebellion…maybe I should just deal with the health stuff. I can take potions or something to keep me leveled out, right?”

She spoke in an almost erratic sense of paranoia.

“Catra…” Tactus began, prepping the tools to finish the surgery. He didn’t want to lie and give her absolute certainty. He knew all too well how much power like this could bring such joy to someone whom had felt powerless their entire life.

“I can’t tell you it’d be easy as it’s been. But I can tell you that if you’re magically inclined as I’m lead to believe…with some practice, maybe even some other potions to slowly build you up…I think you could still do it. But we can’t focus on that right now, we gotta keep you alive first.”

Catra let out a slow exhale of annoyance.

“Right…Liver…organs…Ugh.” She groaned rubbing her eyes with her palms in frustration.

“Yeah…” Tactus answered simply, beginning to extract the fluid.

“If it means anything, you’re a trooper. Can I say that? You drank an entire vials worth of Phoenix Fire and lived. Most people just take a drop, and even then, not all of them make it.”

“Didn’t really have much choice in the moment…” Catra considered, recalling the desperation at the time. It was life or death, and she still wasn’t quite sure what possessed her to do it. Figuring it was just another bit of magic or fate or whatever she’d never truly understand.

“I’m not apologizing for doing it. I know you’re probably still a bit angry at me for it, but it was either that or die, and I didn’t really think of mentioning that I found it, cause honestly, I didn’t even know what it was.”

Tactus was still, letting a beat pass in silence before he answered.

“I’m not angry anymore. It was what had to be done, and if I knew we had it I probably would’ve given it to you anyways…maybe not so much and probably not taken orally.”

Catra lifted her head up, finally opening her eyes. The light blinding her just enough that she couldn’t even see what he was doing anyways, so at least she wouldn’t have to deal with the trauma of seeing and unpacking all of _that._

“It’s not supposed to be drunk? Oh god it’s not a butt-shot or something is it?”

Tactus stifled a chuckle.

“Could you imagine? Hoo. No. It’s…well it c _an_ be taken orally, but, and this was just a theory back in the day. For best results you gotta introduce either through the neck or if you’re able to, like a spinal tap. I mean through the mucus membrane is fine and all if you’re in a hurry but…eh.”

He shrugged, Catra putting her head back down, eyes widening as she remembered something.

“God, I keep forgetting you’re not a doctor. I mean you’re performing surgery on me right now, and you’re not even a real fuckin’ doctor.”

“Hey, I’ve done stuff that’s probably more complicated than your Etherian Doctors do back when I was like 15. In my years, not in your years. I just don’t call myself one cause it’s absurdly complicated to get a doctorate in medicine back home. Didn’t have the time to either.”

Catra scoffed, it seemed like a whole lot of moseying around, even by Tactus’ roundabout standards, to just simply calling himself a doctor.

“Yeah, but like this is _Etheria_. You’re basically a doctor here, so just call yourself one if you’re so damn good.”

She retorted, but Tactus waved her off. Smiling as he pulled the, admittedly cloudier than usual, filled syringe of Phoenix Fire he had pulled from her. 

“It’s a cultural thing. You wouldn’t get it. I’m not a Doctor, so don’t call me one…Now I’m just about done here. All I need to do is patch you back up, apply some Quick Clot so this all seals itself up fast. You’ll feel good as new in about half an hour. Even be able to walk, fight and force me to heal you again.”

He answered, filling an IV of the Tissue Cleansing solution and letting it sit. Grabbing a cotton swab and dabbing at the spot where his incision was made. As if it had never even happened, the spot was sealing up entirely.

“What do I do about the infection risk? This place ain’t exactly a surgeon’s theatre.” She reasonably fretted, attempting to sit up but Tactus held up a, very bloody, taloned hand out infront of her, and she got the message to stay lying down.

“Dealing with that now. I was reading this stuff earlier, boosted it a bit, and after it seems to be good stuff. Might feel a touch cold.” He answers, uncapping the tip of the iv needle and lining it up with Catra’s vein in a single swift motion.

“Ow! Wait…damn. First try…” She gratefully uttered, remembering all to well the numbskulls that used to work in the Horde’s infirmary who frequently missed veins. But of course, came that slightly unpleasant side effect of ice in her veins. Her hair stood up on end in response to such an unagreeable sensation.

“Shhh…this feels so fuckin’ _weird_.“

Tactus nodded, sealing up the remainder potions for future use. Depositing the Phoenix Fire into a normal vial for storage.

“Yes, that’s to be expected. Give that some time, drink some water, and please er, urinate.” He remarks, setting the newly contained vial of Phoenix Fire down as safely as he could on the counter. Only taking his eyes off it so he could return to the sink to resterilize himself. Washing his claws and hands of all the blood.

She couldn’t believe it was really that simple, she sat up slowly checking where he had just been digging into her. If it weren’t for the missing section of fur, she wouldn’t have even known he had done a thing.

“Thanks, Tactus.”

Tactus didn’t respond immediately. Stopping the faucet and just standing there for what felt like, for him at least. Hours.

“There’s, one thing I haven’t mentioned yet.” Taking an uncomfortably long time to turn to her.

‘ _Uh-Oh’_

Catra didn’t like the sound of that.

“What?”

“I…Well…The thing about Phoenix Fire, is that it repairs cells. A lot of them, and on very, _VERY_ rare occasions it can cause infertility.” He spoke that last word with a bit of anxiety.

“But with some help y-“

He was cut off, by the feline bursting into uproarious laughter. Leaving the Owl standing there uncertain and a bit afraid. Not able to tell if she was laughing out of genuine hilarity, or seemingly bursting into mania.

“Oh, that’s fucking funny…Tactus. Lesbian, remember? Besides, we got workarounds for that type of stuff here anyways. Fertility spells or whatever.” She chuckled out, wiping a tear away from her eye.

Relieved, Tactus let out a sigh.

“Oh! Oh good. I was worried that wasn’t common here. I was going to say we had something similar back home. I had an older sister I never met, Gloria, whose other mother was a hummingbird.”

Catra’s brow raised, letting out a little breath of interest. Now that, admittedly made her a little curious.

“Hummingbird, really? Hummingbird and an owl?”

“It’s true! Mom got around, being like 800 and all.”

Catra was almost a little envious that he knew so much about his own family tree. Never having known what her biological parents were like, and with the knowledge of her supposed genetical magic connection. Now she was extra curious.

“What about your other parent? What were they like?”

Tactus shrugged, walking over to the potions that were left. Remembering he’d have to store them properly in his medic bag once he got ahold of that again. Wondering exactly where in this warehouse basement Beetle had put it.

“Never met him. Mom didn’t talk about him much, didn’t even tell me more than the guy’s name. Commonus Centurion. Said he was some brave soldier, and like most soldiers he went off to battle and died. What can you do?”

Catra lowered her head, wondering if the same happened to her own family. She was a child taken in from a raid like anyone else. She was too young to remember a thing, and she knew odds are, they were long gone. Maybe it didn’t really matter who they were. It didn’t actively affect her now aside from the genetics. Perhaps it was just the type of thing that was best not to dwell on too long.

A knock came at the door, loud and rough that startled Tactus so roughly he almost dropped the entire jar of Tissue Cleanse. He set it down carefully on the table and swiveled his head to the door.

“Yes?”

“How’s it going in there?!” Glimmer called out, Tactus striding over to unlock the door. Pulling the deadbolt free and pulling the door open.

Glimmer recoiling at the sight of him.

He had gotten most of the blood off his hands, but still they were undeniably stained a touch red. There was a tiny splatter of blood on his face, little spots on the tip of his beak, visor, and on the cream-colored feathers of his chest.

Though considering he had just performed a surgery, perhaps it was not an awful lot of blood.

“It was a total success!” He beamed, opening the door wider for Glimmer to step in.

She carefully poked her head in, not sure if it was okay, but Tactus _had_ opened the door thus wide before.

Catra, in relatively high spirits, waved to Glimmer. That same confident and cocky grin she always seemed to have, with that one tiny little fang sticking out at her.

“Hey, I would come over, but I’m still numb is all.”

Overcome with relief, Glimmer practically tackled Catra in a hug.

“Glad you’re still kicking, Horde Scum.”

Tears ran down her cheek, it was a stressful few days, and knowing she went down so roughly in that last battle, and all the other side effects she had been experiencing. Knowing it was over was just good to hear.

They finally were about to have the part for Mama Bonham’s speeder, and by tomorrow they’d be heading back home. This was it, the last leg of the nightmare the past couple weeks had been.

Catra awkwardly placed her hands on Glimmer’s lower back, thankful for the hug.

“Can’t get rid of me yet, Sparkles.”

She was well aware of how close the end of this journey was, and going back to Brightmoon arm in arm with Glimmer was going to be weird. Seeing Adora again. But she finally felt like she could do it this time. There was still so much to answer for, but with the amount of times she was so close to death, with all the things she’d learned, and obstacles conquered. This felt right.

Tactus grinned warmly, he knew they were enjoying their moment but he had his own joy to add on. Hoping they’d understand.

“You’re never gonna guess what I pulled from Catra.” He expressed with the most chipper of glee. Holding up the vial, to Glimmer’s surprise.

“Is…that…?”

“Phoenix Fire. An entire vial’s worth, all it needs is some processing and we can refine it. It’s not much but it’s enough for us to study, and I’m sure that Mystacor place you told me about would be more than happy to help me figure this all out.”

Glimmer’s lip trembled in a bizarre sense of anxious exhilaration.

“My gods, this is…I think we’ve just won the whole war…” she stared into that foggy little vial. Knowing fully well just how powerful such a tiny thing meant to everything they were fighting for.

They had everything, the vaccines with Mama Bonham, the Phoenix Fire, they had set Prime’s attack back with their escape. It was perfect.

She pulled Tactus into the hug, the Owl blushing that deep shade of purple he always did. Awkwardly holding the vials above their heads. He almost wanted to apologize for no doubt smelling like sweat and being so disheveled, but he supposed they all were kind of like that at this point.

Truly, he didn’t have time to enjoy the hug, as the moment it was over, he was reminded of his immediate responsibilities. Those being the potions, and the Phoenix Fire.

“I’d better be off to store these…” He shrugged. Glimmer chuckling at just how awkwardly he interjected.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be watching her…” She pats Catra on the back.

“Please, I can…” Catra stopped herself, finding the words for what she actually wanted to say.

“I can…appreciate the company.”

Tactus knew what was happening here, and the looks they gave eachother. Gazes of such adoration. Though at one point his heart was set on himself being the object of such affection, he found himself capable of feeling content with such an outcome regardless.

Knowing he was no longer needed in this room, Tactus decided to withdraw coolly.

Trotting out with a soft smile, giving a two fingered goodbye whilst still clutching those potions tight. Letting the door shut behind him with one last little murmur.

“Take care of her.”

* * *

Tactus felt, well he wasn’t sure how he felt as that door closed. It was all oddly final, and there was this strange feeling in the air itself that made him feel as if something was, about to happen.

Anxiety, he assumed. They were leaving tomorrow after all. Or perhaps it was the site of carnage that had taken place in the warehouse. The headless Belial, and nearly cleft in twain Beetle. Huntara was kneeled before the safe from before. Surrounded by the locks and chains she had been removing one by one.

Holding the arm Glimmer had severed from Belial and using it like a hacksaw. It was strong and durable, plus the guy had locked it up. Huntara figured he owed them that much to be the one to open it.

Wiping a bead of sweat from her face with a little white red and green lycra rag. Her cloak crudely ditched in a corner in a heap.

“Hey Professor, how’s the kid?” She tried to make small talk. Tactus shivering at her wording. It wasn’t the word. Okay, maybe it was the word, but not just the word. It was that weird almost parental tone to it that made him so uncomfortable.

“Fine…She’s going to make it. System should be clear soon, liver back to snuff. How’s…all that going?” 

“That’s good…good.” Huntara nodded, not looking up at him as she reached out of sight behind the Crate, presenting Tactus his Medic bag.

“Snagged that for ya’ while you were getting to work.”

“Oh! Thank you!” He slipped his arm under the strap with immense gratitude. Sliding his newly acquired potions back into his bag.

“And! Before I forget…her Royal Highness would like you to save some of these.” She plucked a few peculiar almost saw tooth like pieces from off the top of the crate. Chipping’s from Belial’s chitin.

Tactus held them between his fingers curiously lifting them up to the light to get a better look.

“What’s the deal with them?”

Turning her attention back to her task, she diligently spoke as she worked.

“Well, supposedly. Belial was able to cut right through, and fully block some of Glim’s magic.”

Tactus’ ear tuft’s and brows perked up at that claim. It was rare to find something capable of fully negating such effects.

“Block? Like absorb, not reflect?”

“Yup. What the kid claimed at least. Think you can figure out something from it?”

Tactus could see a peculiar glint coming off the yellowed tips in the light.

“Might be some gold and activated charcoal mixture. Maybe a laminate or polish? See look, there’s like a layer on it.” He scratched at the little segment, peeling off what was almost like paint.

Huntara raised a brow.

“Gold and charcoal? How you figure?”

Tactus Squints, seeing the tiniest little black particles mixed in with what seems to be flakes of gold.

“It’s…well it’s actually kinda brilliant on Belial’s part, I’ll give him that. Gold’s not very reactive and tends to hold magical charges well, plus Activated Charcoal is great at neutralizing things. Reactive substances, so magic really.”

“Tactus passed her by, stuffing the pieces in his bag for future and further research. Also grabbing a small metallic disk off the floor. The holochit from before, the device’s existence having been weighing on his mind since Belial showed it.

“And…that’d work? It’s that easy?” Huntara wasn’t a scientist, and it sounded crazy. But it’s not like she knew enough about the subject to object.

Tactus pocketed it, then plucked his cloak from off the floor where he had left it earlier. Slipping it back on and fastening it around him again.

“Huntara, I make potions and perform medicine. I don’t make armor. I’m going to say it’s a hard _MAYBE_. I can’t give you more than that cause I don’t know.”

Eying him dressing up so quickly, Huntara had yet another question.

“Where you going?”

Tactus gripped his throat, feeling an unpleasant dryness.

“I think I need to step out and get some fresh air for a bit. I’ll be back soon.”

It was stuffy in the basement, so Huntara couldn’t blame him.

“Careful, there’s a sandstorm going on up there. Doubt you’ll get much in the way of fresh air, but at least nobody will see ya.”

Tactus had never been in a sandstorm before, and now his curiosity was piqued. He had to see just what such a thing looked like. ‘Sand storm’ emitted the imagery of clouds rolling over the desert and casting down sand in flakes like snow for him. He couldn’t imagine such a scenario in which that made sense, but it was a whole new world after all.

“Interesting. Well, I’ll leave you to it.” He had almost turned when Huntara stopped him.

“One sec.” She called, grabbing the rag and tossing it to Tactus, who caught it in a deft snatch out of the air. It was soft and damp, red white and green. Tactus knew exactly what it was, but stretched it out to see it for himself.

Sure enough, as he suspected, it was Glimmer’s Horde shirt, the same red stain from the prickly pear on it, dribbling down from the Horde logo, almost like blood.

“Don’t know why the hell Paige thought it’d be a good idea for her to hold onto that, just seems like more evidence of who they are. I was able to convince her to part with it earlier, said I needed a rag. Go toss that shit out, ok? Think I saw a dumpster on our way in. You mind?”

Tactus agreed with Huntara’s inference. It’d certainly be a more than fair idea to dispose of the fabric.

“No problem. Be back in a few.” He waved again, gripping the shirt tightly in his hand and lightly fingering around with the holochit in his pocket, deep in thought.

* * *

So, this was a sandstorm. The wind howled, and Tactus was buffeted by the strong winds, which carried that scratchy itchy sand. Coming wave after wave upon him, and as uncomfortable as it was, it was far better than being in that concrete nightmare of a basement.

Roomy, yes. But still it brought too many unpleasant memories. He flicked the holochit around, no bigger than a poker chip, over and over again in his pocket.

Dumpster was right there. Just past the stairs. He stood infront of it, in the perfect angle where the corner of the building above would protect him from the harsh winds.

He glanced down at the shirt in an odd sense of nostalgia. He remembered delivering the shirt to them what felt like a lifetime ago. Neatly refolding it and placing at their room door. The juices that dribbled down Glimmer’s cheek from that peculiar fruit, which had been covered in spikes. Growing from the killer cacti that nearly killed them. 

It was almost an artifact, or a souvenir of their adventures. But he couldn’t just keep it, what would he even say? Returning with her shirt and wanting to ‘keep it for the memories’? He could imagine the looks on their faces in disgust as clear as day. They'd suspect it'd be for more malicious purposes, and in truth. He doubted such a thought wouldn't occur to him were the positions reversed. 

No. It had to go. With one last mournful glimpse at it, he tossed it into the dumpster. Wanting it out of his sight so he wouldn’t have to think of it for another second.

Then came the holochit. He flicked it on, and there again were their faces, glowing bright and green. Its very existence brought dread. It had to have been distributed, maybe by the clones, or somehow. Who knows how many hunters still existed out here?

Regardless, he had to destroy it. Clutching it tightly in his palm and feeling its metal strain in his grasp until he felt it completely collapse with a crunch. That had to have been enough.

Tossing the pieces into the garbage, seemingly unseen and hidden from all by the whirlwind of sand. Tactus still felt more unsafe now then possibly ever before. Anyone could know, there could be a bounty hunter around every corner. Anyone looking to turn them in for money from the Horde.

He had to discuss this with Catra, Huntara and Glimmer. The moment that this storm cleared out the needed to leave, as soon as possible from this town. It wasn’t safe.

He’d feel no guilt about leaving now, they had plenty of supplies to last now, courtesy of Belial’s personal stores. They had to hold out, at least until they brought in some reinforcements. The Princess Alliance that Glimmer spoke so fondly of.

But for now, Tactus breathed in relief. This was the home stretch. They needed only to make it out unseen.

_“ **YOU.** ” _A voice roared over the storm. The storm itself could not match the fury in her voice. Tactus’ blood ran cold, his heart on the verge of stopping entirely. Frozen with fear as he could only watch as she came forth from the almost invisible sands past.

Her face was wrapped in cloth, metal arm guards on her wrists. A long cutlass drawn as she pulled that mask off. Her eyes an electric blue, skin almost as pale as the Horde soldiers that had ruined his entire life. Hair like corn silk.

Her face contorted into pure anger, her hands trembling on her blade as she stared down this stranger in a cloak. His hands still stained red with blood, but not just any blood. _Fresh Blood_.

The one with the feet of a raptor that could make those marks. The one tall enough who could make such long strides. The one she’d just seen throw away a shirt covered in blood, just big enough for Glimmer to wear and with that Horde Logo.

“Where are they…” She asked, though her rage began to overtake her as she stared at this, this _thing._ Those claws of his as long as daggers, covered in blood from mere minutes ago.

This was it for him. In his moment of weakness he had just gotten caught by a hunter. He couldn’t run down the stairs, he didn’t know if she was being followed or not. She could have reinforcements behind her, people who’d know where she was going.

He couldn’t let her know about the basement at all. He’d have to run, distract her, try to lose her. Something. Anything to get her away from here. His breath grew ragged with fear. He couldn’t go back, he just couldn’t. He wanted to run. Fly away, something. Anything but he was rooted to that spot.

Adora could see his fear through his cloak, the fear of a guilty man. That disgusting kind of fear that made her the angriest. Terrible thoughts ran through her head as the pieces fell into place.

This monster, this _murderer,_ that he…

Healed them just to…

Only minutes ago…

After coming this whole way just to miss them by minutes…

And it was _his_ fault…

Finally, she could think no more, and all she could see was red. 

_“_ **WHERE ARE THEY!?”** Her voice boomed like thunder, a glow emanating from deep inside her as a rage filled her. A rage she hadn’t felt since her sword was corrupted. Propelling her forward with righteous fury.

She would avenge Glimmer and Catra, no matter what. 


	13. A Perfect Storm

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE NEVER CAME BACK!?” Glimmer, bellowed in exasperation. In the middle of helping Catra up to her feet as Huntara broke the news.

“He said he was going up to get some fresh air about 15 minutes ago, and he just never came back…” She relayed, stern faced. The sandstorms outside roaring louder, even deep in the basement they were hunkered down in. It was almost deafening as sand began to somehow find its way through all the cracks in the floor of the abandoned shack above.

It didn’t make sense, Catra coughed as the dust began to feel overwhelming. Tactus disappearing? In the middle of a sandstorm? She couldn’t see him just wandering off somewhere without telling anyone. Especially not with so many Guards around. 

“Could you fucking _CHECK_ on him?” Catra interjected, thinking it seemed like the obvious solution to the problem.

Frustrated, Huntara continued.

“Don’t you think I tried that? All I could see was some tracks, his and someone else’s. Horde boots, _Etherian_ Horde.” She clarified with a growl.

“What?” Glimmer questioned, flabbergasted. The more she heard, the less sense it made. The Etherian Horde had been eradicated in this region by Prime’s Horde, why would anyone left over do something to Tactus? The only explanation was that they too, like Belial, thought that if they were turned in Horde Prime would show mercy.

“SHOW ME.” Catra spat, ignoring the remaining numbness in her legs. She was walking on pins and needles, but she needed to know what happened. If Tactus wasn’t in trouble at that moment, she’d strangle him on sight. Now wasn’t the time for anything to get in their way.

Huntara gave an affirming salute. Snatching up the bag she had stuffed the Speeder part in. Having broken it out of the crate minutes ago. Grabbing a new sword from one of the shelves, and tossing Catra the hatchet Beetle had confiscated from her.

The Cat jolting forward with vigor and plucking the hatchet from the air. Somehow, her numbness, that insensibility within her legs had vanished in that instant. Her grip on the rubberized handle became taut. Pressing onwards, resolute to make sense of the insanity which their circumstances seemingly proved themselves to be.

Now that they were outside, Glimmer could see what Huntara was talking about. It was difficult to tell exactly what had happened, there was Tactus’ tracks in the sand. Easily identifiable as his claws had dug into the sands, seemingly having stopped and turned around to run away from someone.

This didn’t surprise her, Tactus wasn’t much of a fighter. What did confound her, was that he had ran away. He didn’t go back down the stairs to grab help, he had just fled. The familiar bootprints crossing over his tracks. She felt, some indescribably mental block, as if the answer was on the tip of her tongue. Why? Why couldn’t she place it.

“It doesn’t make sense…” She squinted at the tracks, stepping out and prepared to follow them. Huntara grabbing the ledge of the opening and hauling herself up, grunting in accordance. Equally perplexed. 

“What do you think Catra?” She turned, but the Feline stood rigid. Almost catatonic. She could smell something on the wind, unmistakable. That scent of sweat, with the undertone of the simplest soap imaginable. That mellow scent, with the hints of cold steel, someone that meticulously maintained their gear. A touch of that almost cream that came with the soap, and her shampoo. The rosebud scent she had been wearing since she first arrived in Brightmoon.

It was her.

“Catra?” Glimmer asked, seeing the horror filling Catra’s eyes.

Her lip trembled, as she pieced it all together. The boots, the unmistakable, undeniable scent of her. There was no other conclusion that could be made. Her whole body shivered, and her hairs stood on end.

“ _Adora_ …” She breathed out.

 _“What…?”_ Glimmer’s face falls, crouching down to the half-emerged Catra. Looking from her back to the boots in disbelief. But she was right, she had to be. The boots were the right size, and as Glimmer paid more attention, she even recognized some of the cracking she had seen on Adora’s boots. Those same old boots she had always kept around. Cupping a hand over her mouth.

Huntara could see it too. But if that was true then the person who had chased Tactus down…

“You’re not saying…”

Catra was hyperventilating at this point. No, she wanted more time. She wanted some other situation to meet her in that she could control and handle better, not like this.

_“It’s Adora…”_

Catra bit her hand from sheer dread, biting hard enough that she began to draw blood. She couldn’t think about that, Adora was somewhere, and so was Tactus. Both were gone, she had chased him.

There wasn’t time to sit around in fear, so she did what anyone would do.

She ran.

Running through that ongoing storm, Catra tracked that smell. Glimmer and Huntara close behind. Her eyes darting around, not as a lioness does on its hunts, but as a prey animal does in search of an escape.

An escape from the terror within her mind of what had happened. She was already piecing what had happened together in her mind. 

* * *

She had crossed the desert, and now had reached the point where she hit the worst possible outcome.

Their only lead, and he was covered in blood, neither Glimmer or Catra anywhere to be seen, and he was disposing of the evidence of his crime.

She’d never hear Glimmer’s laugh again or see her smile, and just when Catra had finally begun to do something good in her life she’d never get the chance to see that. To make amends, to try to sort things out with all the harsh words said to Glimmer, to see Catra at last come into her own and do something good.

Bow’s life was depending on this guy having the skill to save him. Micah, who hadn’t seen his daughter in 20 years was robbed of that opportunity, and it was because of _him._

That freak under the cloak. That purple visor, almost identical to the green ones she had seen clone officers waltzing around in, peering. Their gaze unsettling Adora’s nerves as she felt there was more to them then met the eye. He didn’t speak, he didn’t say a word.

“What did you do to them? **YOU ANSWER ME DAMMIT**.” She snarled, inching forward with her blade extended out. Her cutlass prepared to strike as she so commanded.

* * *

Catra, despite the inherent issues with running through so much sand, she still found the time and the air to be able to relay what she was figuring out.

“Somehow, she tracked us, don’t know how far. Somehow, she figured out Tactus was with us and knows that she needs info from him. She comes up, sees he’s covered in blood, and naturally gets aggressive. Tactus paranoid fucking bird he is, thinks she’s an enemy and does the only thing he can think of…”

Glimmer, remembering vaguely what Tactus had done with the Major when they were downed back on Prime’s Citadel. The insane idea that had popped into his head to distract him. 

“Oh no…”

* * *

Tactus moved back slowly, barely gliding back with the smallest steps. He couldn’t speak, he didn’t even change where he was looking.

He couldn’t give her anything to work with. If he even indicated there was a basement right there and if it were to be searched.

A half-paralyzed Catra, a distracted old warrior and the Queen of Brightmoon. Even at their best, there’s no way they’d be able to fight off any clone reinforcements this interloper, this Bounty Hunter, could bring down on them. But it wasn’t just that.

Those medical supplies, the food stores, the weapons. They were this town’s only hope to hold out.

In the middle of this sandstorm with such low visibility, a plan formulated in his mind. He’d need to lose her, but most importantly lead her astray. It’d be dangerous, but if he could enrage her she’d give chase for sure.

Mistaking her look of fury for an enraged sense of greed, he grinned.

His eyes darting to her scuffed boots, and on the spot he had come up with the exact thing to say he needed to keep her attention. Extending a hand out, stepping back.

“You’ve come a long way for a prize, Interloper. What’s a bit farther?” 

His second set of eyelids flipped down. Shielding his eyes as he pivoted around on his heel. Fleeing into the coarse blizzard.

She didn’t hesitate to make chase. Holding one arm out to block as much of the sand as she could from reaching her eyes. Flipping her cutlass around and keeping it close to her back.

Her rancor further vexed as his robe fluttered behind him with each step he took. An insult to her, and an insult to their lives.

‘A prize?’ is that all they were to him? Something to be won or captured? Something to be sold? Was that why he had killed them? To sell their bodies to Prime in exchange for his freedom, even after they had helped him escape.

Vengefully, she trailed after him. Unaware of the cloud that accompanied her. Gleaming from deep within her as her ire for the Bird grew.

That pendant Micah had given her beating against her chest with each step. She could’ve called him to her, as he had advised. But she didn’t dare. No, she couldn’t see his face now, not with this news. Not until the deed was done.

* * *

“He antagonized her! Then ran off…” Glimmer surmised, pulling the edge of her hood to cover her mouth.

Leaping with Catra and Huntara over the obstacles in their way as they zigzagged down alley after alley. Over debris and detritus of all kinds from plenty of junk and trash that had been left behind by countless others.

As they neared a corner to round, an unmistakable grey tarp was seen clinging to a piece of rebar. Half of Tactus’ cloak billowing in the breeze, a long thin slice down the middle having cleaved it in two.

Catra may have smelled the blood on the air first, but Huntara was the first to witness the mess, just barely around the corner. Out of immediate sight.

Blood had been flicked and carried along the wind to spatter flecks onto almost every wall. Tiny droplets, with a large trail flowing behind in Tactus’ footsteps. A notable shift in his weight from the markings, as he had begun to lean his weight to ignore the pain.

Damaged feathers sticking to the cracks in walls and finding themselves rooted wherever they fell into the sands below. Scratch marks up an old wagon where he had seemingly crawled up and over.

“He’s injured!” Huntara calls out as she sees their trail leads off to a dead end at the end of the alley. Inbetween several abandoned homes, with the only immediate indication of where they had went being a touch of blood on the curtain of an open window.

* * *

Tactus kept his sprint up. His head pivoting around to view through his cloak as he tread.

The Interloper was harder to shake off than he had anticipated. If this was to come to a fight, he’d need every advantage possible. So, in his advancement he weighed his odds.

Her heart rate remained steady and strong, indicating she was well trained for endurance running. She was of the Hominidae family, which implied great muscles and strength, as seen by Eternians and certain Etherian groups. Magical capabilities? Not ruled out, as evidenced by the strange aura she had around her.

Minimal muscle difference between hands, possibly ambidextrous, but is clearly favoring right hand with sword hand positioning. Equipped with boots with good tread. Stance is ensuring minimal wind resistance in her sprint.

Susceptible to incredible feats of endurance and hysterical strength.

However, as a Hominidae she was susceptible to overly sensitive skin at the hands, face and neck, with minimal if any eye protection. Although very capable of climbing and even leaping, still incapable of flight.

Outrunning: Improbable.

Hand to Hand Combat: Unfavorable without direct interference to sensory organs.

Conclusion: Blind and Evade, outmaneuver.

Casting off his cloak and letting the breeze carry it behind him, he had hoped it would be the perfect ‘smokescreen’ for his escape. Flaring his wings and ready to take flight.

Flying into Adora’s face mid run, she reacted swiftly and smoothly. She had been anticipating this the moment she saw the slightest shift in his shoulders while running. Her own senses were tuned from a mixture of her adrenaline and devoted fury.

Bringing her cutlass up to slice the cloak in twain. It had distracted her for barely a couple seconds, but it was seemingly already too late. Tactus had caught the wind and although as strong as the winds seemed, he’d be able to easily take to the skies and glide beyond her reach.

Or rather, he would’ve, were Adora slower on the draw. Though true, there were many a time when she may find herself mistaken, or even come across a fool. There were few who could argue that if she were a genius at anything, it was battle and to act quickly on her feet.

Not two heart beats had passed when her hand found itself gripped tightly to the trusty knife she kept in her boot. Plucking it from its sheathe and flinging it at that winged shape. That shape that had momentarily been on the verge of disappearing from her sight forever. But she didn’t need to know the specifics to hit her mark.

The blade practically whistled through the air as it spun, embedding itself into one of Tactus’ wings when he was barely a few feet off the ground.

Somehow, he did not scream, even as the most sensitive of body parts he had felt as if it were melting off. He pulled hard on his translator, tugging it off roughly and stuffing it into his pocket. Forcing his beak to clench shut with his other hand so as not to make a single noise.

His momentum lost, and wing too damaged to fly, his escape was cut short. The Owl stumbling on his feet, grounded once more.

Somehow, he mustered the strength to keep up his retreat, through his agony, easily one of the most painful things he could possibly experience as he felt the wound throb. His blood coating the sands as he stumbled around the corner and crawled over what seemed to be an old wagon, which blocked the end of the alley.

Through the cloud of feathers cast off from him. Adora gained distance on him. Now was her chance, he was injured and anyone so quick to flee would be even quicker to give up whatever they had.

His words of a so-called ‘prize; bugged her. It was almost as if they were still alive. He was taunting her with that, but she had seen him covered in blood, practically a butcher.

Perhaps she so doggedly chased him down in some strange mix of a quest for vengeance, and out of the hope that they were still alright. That she could finally resolve some old feelings without having such an opportunity harshly taken from her in this world.

If they were still alive, this was her chance to find out, or at least find out or otherwise gain the materials needed to save Bow. She could see his medical bag bouncing against his hip. The weight of it indicating that he had to still have s _omething_ that could help him. But still, such a possibility was not an absolute.

He had taken a plasma bolt for her, and for their mission. Although she was sure that he had the materials to do the job, would she have to make the decision to let him live, solely to save Bow? Risking his possible escape with every passing second, or would she find herself seeking vengeance for her friends, and possibly condemn Bow to death as a result of her actions?

Though she knew such concerns were rational, she knew there was no point in considering them too deeply before she had even caught up to the Raptor. But we do not always have the opportunity to decide what factors into our actions in such moments of passion. Often, we merely act accordingly.

Tactus’ eyes peered, though he could sense distant heartbeats, he intentionally took the path with the least individuals. At no point had he seen anyone following with the Interloper, so it was suffice to say she was alone.

The aching reminder in his wing that almost brought him to his knees made his new mission clear. She was both dangerous and deady, and would need to be neutralized by any means. Though as he felt himself gush onto the sands, he hoped he’d find the strength to be capable of doing it.

Adora’s leg caught on a stray rope hanging off the edge of the wagon. Like a snared rabbit, she was caught upon it. Looking down for a brief instant to slash the old, frayed rope off from her leg.

When her attention returned to the chase at hand, she realized that somehow, in that fraction of a second in which she took her eyes off him, the bird had completely disappeared.

But in his wake, she saw a tiny skirt up of dust from where his claws had cast them up as he dived out of sight. Through a window into an abandoned home.

* * *

Adora’s bootprint was clear on the windowsill. With no other entrance available from the alley, Catra leaped through first. Landing in the wrecked interior of their battleground from mere moments ago.

The wood floor covered in her bootprints from when she had seemingly paced around, clear imprints in the dust which caked the floor.

Catra’s nose sniffed around, quickly finding the path. Which in hindsight she merely had to look to find where they had went.

Huntara and Glimmer quickly joining Catra.

Glimmer being the first to comment on the path that they had taken.

“ _Woah._ ”

* * *

Planting her boot on the windowsill, Adora flung herself inwards. Flipping her sword up to slash the curtain away and tumbling into an expert roll across the floor. Perfectly finding her footing at the end of her roll, her eyes scanning the abandoned home.

A makeshift table made from an old cable spool, a burnt out candle sitting ontop, with a set of stairs leading up to a second floor. A tarp carpet, and not much else aside from dust that flowed through the cracks.

There was still a meal on the table, flies buzzing around the half-eaten piece of what seemed to be some peculiar type of meat that Adora couldn’t identify.

No scratch marks on the floor. The bird had been here, but hadn’t run quite as fast as she would’ve expected. She couldn’t even see any blood of his. Was there anyway he could’ve simply fooled her?

**_“Where are you!?”_ **her voice thundered, rattling the walls of the shanty as her head turned to and fro, searching for any lead she could find, considering rushing up the stairs. Even though there was still far too much dust and sand upon them for anyone to have climbed up them recently.

She wanted so desperately to trust her judgement, but she wasn’t sure if she should let her pride stop her from checking every possible lead. But neither could she ignore such a possibility that she may have been missing something in that very room. The floor creaking under her as she paced with uncertainty.

But unbeknownst to her, Tactus was not only in that same home with her, but even closer than she expected. Hidden in the closet under the stairs, eyeing her carefully through the cracks in the wood. It was a tight fit, and just squeezing in seemed to stress the integrity of the house. It was the perfect hiding spot, even moreso than Tactus had could’ve ever hoped or planned for.

The seam of the door being nigh invisible due to the makeshift manner the shanty had been constructed in. The hinges were on his side, and it seemed like just any other section of wall to someone who wasn’t looking carefully enough. He had gotten lucky that he had entered the home while the door was still open, or perhaps this encounter would already be over.

He eyed her with a remarked curiosity, as the air seemed to warp around her body. The distinct distortion of magic associated with someone channeling a vast amount of magic within their body. Though how she had not directly leveraged it yet, he was uncertain. But it was concerning to say the least.

People didn’t ordinarily radiate such magic without some sort of enhancers. But he hadn’t seen her do anything that would imply she was using anything of the sort. Even more concerning. This woman was a mutant of some kind, another anomaly of Etheria that made Tactus question to what degree he would need to set up a standard deviation for Etherians.

Such power in the hands of anyone was terrifying in its own way, as she scanned the room for any signs of him. Quickly realizing something was off. She moved like a soldier, firm but resolute in her observations. Dangerous.

But now was not the time for studying her as if she were a specimen under glass, if anything _he_ was the one contained as such. The throbbing of his wing around that hardened chunk of steel, embedded so deeply into him may have been the cruelest reminder of just how thin of a thread he was clinging onto in this endeavor.

His training coming back to him. Identifying and taking into account the location of his wound. A knife, approximately 6 inches. Buried into his lesser covert just below his aerohumerus. The skin was thin, and it had punched straight through. Looked worse, and felt worse than it actually was.

As quietly as one could, he reached up to the dagger, flexing his hand to steady himself and stop himself from trembling. Thankful for the adrenaline and endorphins which at least limited the searing pain. Knowing that pulling it out would cause him even more agony and bloodloss, Tactus placed a talon against the steel barely a few millimeters above where the blade left his body.

With a cautious graze, he severed the handle of the blade from his wing. Almost screeching as the vibrations further damaged the sensitive nerves. He was in no position to do a full removal, catching the handle with a pinkie and holding tight. Taking a bit of his QuickClot solution and splashing it on the injured area.

But such an action still stung, and no matter how hard he had tried to hold back his cries of anguish, a whimper had escaped him. Feeling the skin quickly close and meet the chunk of her knife once more.

But no sooner had the sound escaped him, had he begun to feel his sense of safety completely vanish. The creaking of his pursuer’s footsteps had stopped. Her heartbeat spiked, and she neared his door with her blade.

She had found him.

* * *

On the floor, in what presumably used to be a cubby under the stairs. Was a not so insignificant amount of blood upon the floor in the tiny space. The entire back wall behind where the cubby had been knocked down in a struggle.

“COME ON.” Catra shouted, leading on. 

* * *

Tactus was exhausted, and didn’t have enough energy left to produce wing shields. Not for long at least. He crept back against the wall of the closet, feeling just how loose the panel was that stood between him and escaping. But it’d be loud.

Adora’s eyes flicked down and she saw some of the more subtle of scuffs in the floor where the dust had been moved. Rearing back, shoulder braced, she slammed forward through the door with her sword kept low. Intent on running him through.

There was a flash of purple as his shield manifested on his good wing. The owl toppling over and through the back wall behind him, right into another abandoned home.

Her strike had been stronger than he could’ve imagined, as he was almost sure she had cracked his shields. The Owl falling hard onto his back and scrambling back as she leapt forward with a downward axe swing. Only missing his head because she had failed to notice that cutlass had broken off halfway up.

Realizing the leftover sword was almost useless, she grabbed the broken tip of it in her bare hands out of some primal instinct. Ignoring the pain as she darted right with it.

She was even more agile than she looked, using the close environment to her advantage. Springboarding off the wall and coming in for a stomp. The owl rolling out of the way but still feeling the wind from her move pass by his feathers.

Pushing off from the ground and getting to his feet, standing defensively as he plucked his translator out from his pocket and put it back on. The Interloper seeming to stand back, not immediately jumping at him. Perhaps there was a twinge of honor from her? Even if she did throw a knife into his back.

Though that wasn’t at all what was happening, she was sizing him up and keeping her distance from his claws. This was her first chance getting a good look at him.

Massive bird, an owl? Real big claws, and one of those Horde Visor things she had seen on some of the higher ranked officers roaming around. But his stance wasn’t perfect, hands a little too limp, as if he didn’t do a whole lot of fighting. The kind of stance a backstabbing murderer has. Waiting for that opportune moment when your guard is down.

Shields, would be tough, but the way he was panting and with how close of quarters they were in, no way he could hold out for long. She had fought Catra easily a hundred times, and those claws of his would be no different, she just had to avoid his swipes and hit him hard. But it was a small room.

A little medical bag dangling by his shoulder, turning pink from his own blood drying onto it.

_‘Bastard’_ Adora thought, realizing he had been healing himself in the maybe 40 seconds it had taken her to find him. Those supplies were going to be for Bow. Her grip tightening around the shard.

She had her plan set up for what she’d do, though the Owl’s eyes kept darting around to something behind her and she felt the compulsion to turn around. Though she buried it, thinking it to be a trick.

Tactus was screaming in his mind as he came to a horrible conclusion. He wasn’t leading her on a wild goose chase, she had been corralling him into a trap.

Behind her was innumerable heartbeats just feet away from the shack they were in. The most distinct of heartbeats. 3 quick pumps, heartrate about 200 beats per minute, even when resting.

Horde Clones, and plenty of them. Just outside that door, more than he could count in what time he had to think. Too many for any one person to handle alone, but why were they all here? By the Phoenix, why here? Why now? Had he taken a wrong turn somewhere down the line?

He couldn’t leap back out the way he had come, that blade in her hand, she would be aiming for that the moment he made a move. There weren’t windows behind him, and too much noise would draw their attention.

It was the end of the line for him, and Tactus knew that. He casted fear out of his heart, deciding then there was no way he’d be going back alive. He was horrifically outmatched in this fight, and maybe that was what gave him the most hope. That vein throbbing on her forehead, and cloud of magic around her, which foretold her unshown power.

He wasn’t going to survive.

* * *

This place used to be a home. Now it seemed like the sight of a tragedy. Clone boot prints, scorch prints on the floor. The walls were damaged and on the verge of caving in. Feathers strewn about the floor in the debris, and even more blood. Fresher, and smelling more familiar to Catra.

They had stormed in, that she could tell. Knocking down the wall and collapsing it under foot. Blood spatter following a trail with drag marks out the door.

It was a breach and grab, easy to tell. But there was so much more that seemed off. She could feel something in the air, like copper or gold. The same scent that accompanied the She-Ra.

Gods, She-Ra had been here. But still they were gone.

Catra was thankful she didn’t have to explain what had happened, as Glimmer and Huntara came with her. She didn’t want to be the person to tell them what had happened, not that the outcome of what had happened would seem any more pleasant.

* * *

Somehow, he knew it’d always come to this, not one member of his family had ever made it past 40 asides from his mother. His own sister had told him it was cause the candle that burns twice as bright only lasts half as long. Today was his day to burn that bright.

‘Wait.’ He thought, remembering that vial that rattled around in his medical bag. A vial of Phoenix Fire, somewhat diluted. But even a touch could change the course of the fight, maybe even enough for him to make it out of this.

He almost grinned as he stepped back, further cornering himself against the wall. A deep breath exiting him. He needed this, one last rally to steel his nerve for the final deed to be done. Loosening his stance and confusing Adora. He suddenly went into a deep an exaggerated bow.

“My name is Tactus, Last Noble of the Hemo Invicta Bloodline, _King_ of Aviaria, and I am proud to die.”

He came back up with a grin nearly a mile wide of smug satisfaction.

“Free as a bird.”

That look of his, which seemed so sure he had won was the straw that broke the camel’s back. The cloud of energy which surrounded Adora seemed to ignite. The vexed soldier could stand it no longer.

Exploding into light, a deep power overtook her that she thought she had lost long ago when she shattered her sword. But maybe this was exactly why she had been granted this power before.

Perhaps in some cosmic sense, it was always for reasons like this. Not because of Light Hope, not her First One’s genetics, but because when it came down to it, she had one of the truest of strengths.

An unflinching determination to do what she felt was right, and at that moment, nothing felt more right; than ensuring there was some justice in her world still. Even if that world might no longer hold her friends, it was her duty to uphold it in their honor. 

Tactus stumbled back as he tried to grab the vial. Blinded by her as he felt his medical bag’s strap sever. The tiny blade shard being flicked past him and embedding into a wall. His ribs shattering as she delivered a heel kick to his sternum. A giant meaty hand reaching forward to grab his throat.

He felt the ground disappear from under his feet as he was lifted up by the throat. Flailing a claw in the direction of where he thought her face was, raking down her left side all the way down to her chin before she suddenly flicked a hand at his arm. Squawking in agony as he felt it crack and fall limp.

His one remaining hand grabbing onto her wrist to try to crush it into oblivion. But even with his own grip, ordinarily able to easily crush bone and metal, somehow he couldn’t so much as break past her skin as the interloper before him had turned into a behemoth.

Her radiance too powerful for him to comprehend. Her eyes were like looking into the sun of this world, piercing, bright and foreign. The slash he had carved down her face, nearly blinding her didn’t seem to bother her quite so much as merely looking at him did.

Face contorted into a look of loathing that rarely had he ever seen matched on anyone’s face as she leaned towards him.

**“Is that why you _killed_ my friends? You killed them because Prime offered you your freedom?**”

Her eye twitched as her grip grew ever vice-like around the bird’s throat.

_‘friends’_ was the word she had used, not bounties or targets. Tactus’ look of smug victory faded as he realized he'd made a horrible mistake.

This pain he felt had not come from a person enraptured by greed, but rather one who sought to avenge their loved ones. Even her heartbeat showed a level of stress one could attribute to grief.

His breathing ran ragged, as each breath elicited pain. His eyes softening as he stared into his opponent’s eyes, his own eyes adjusting to accommodate the light. Her blond hair and bright blue eyes, beneath a crown adorned with wings.

How could he have been so blind?

“You’re Adora…”

Roughly pulling him back she slammed him into the wall again, rattling the entire shack.

His body feeling as if he had a hundred glass shards inside him that had just been shaken around.

Coughing violently as he felt himself on the verge of losing consciousness from the pain.

“ **What’s wrong? Just now realizing there’s consequences for what you _DID_?” **

She growled, Tactus’ head swimming as he saw a few of those heartbeats near them. Surely the flash of light and the shaking must’ve been noticed, even with the sandstorm giving them some level of cover. He could barely even stay awake, let alone muster his strength enough to speak to her still.

“They’re…safe…Adora…Safe and alive…”

Adora’s grip suddenly loosened, his eyes were pleading but seemingly honest.

**_“What?”_**

Her ears felt like they were ringing, and her legs suddenly grew weak. She had expected almost any set of words to come from him except those. But somehow those words were the ones that took the breath out of her. Where the bird had clawed at her face began to sting as he continued.

“Thought you were a hunter…ran to lead you away…protect them…”

His voice box began to cut in and out as his grip on his surroundings lessened. The pain becoming overwhelming with each breath, so much so that he wished he were capable of stopping entirely.

In another flash of light, she found herself back to normal, still holding the bird above the ground.

His medical bag sitting on the dusty floor as Adora considered the many instances in which someone dealing with medicine could so easily find their hands bloody and needing to dispose of such rags.

Everything she had seen she was already reassessing, even down to his decision to run. His poor stances, all things she had attributed to that of a coward and a scoundrel and not that of someone who simply didn’t know how to fight.

Barely weighing more than one of her weights. A bizarre mix of relief and anxiety encompassing her as she considered that she may have just horrifically maimed him for nothing.

“…Really?”

Tactus’ gaze peered past her in horror, as he saw those many heartbeats lined up just outside the door. The shadow of the clones casting itself through the windows, rifles in hand. In a perfectly organized firing line.

If he had only been quiet for a few more seconds, perhaps they would’ve stood a chance when the _thunk_ of several flashbangs and the crash of broken glass as they came through the windows.

He couldn’t speak in time to warn her either, as his sights and sound disappeared. The harsh ring and trounce of boots, the feeling of hands grabbing onto him. Rough and uncaring as he was dragged away.

Adora didn’t know what was going on, screaming and kicking and punching at the air, the hands, whatever was there. If she had only been She-Ra for just a bit longer she could’ve done something, anything as she tried to dig in her heels. Bite, anything that would stop these hands from pulling her away in a haze of white and soundlessness. 

Something hard came down on her head just as she was regaining her sight. The last thing she could see was that awful glow of so many bright green eyes.

Her last thoughts were of failure and loss, knowing that she was once again ripped away from her chance to see her friends.

His last thoughts were that of pure fear as freedom slipped from his grasp. Like a man drowning in a lake with such a weight tied around his ankles as his labored breathing in his broken body slowed. Finally passing out from a mixture of pain and shock.

* * *

Catra stood in the mess left in the aftermath of their entanglements. That strong an unpleasant scent that accompanied clones. A stomach churning almost sterile scent, indescribable but ultimately so unnatural she couldn’t avoid it.

Her eyes turning to the spot directly across with a clear imprint in the wall. Kneeling down as she spotted something white in the rubble, reaching for it wordlessly and sullenly.

“Catra, come on. They can’t have gotten far.” Glimmer insisted, but Catra did not move from the scene. Huntara slowly placed a hand on Glimmer’s shoulder in deep concern. The Queen shaking it off.

Why did Huntara do that? This wasn’t the time for her to be comforted. They still had to find them. The trail wasn’t ending here, there was still boot marks left to follow.

“Why aren’t any of you doing anything?! We still have time to do something!”

Catra’s stomach turned, as she picked the item out of the rubble. The medical bag Tactus had been carrying, the strap bloodied and severed. Her head tilting up to Glimmer, whose eyes were filled with frustration as if she was the only one not in on some kind of joke.

Perhaps Catra had misjudged, and Glimmer really hadn’t caught on yet.

Huntara seemed to know however, though it was hitting her a touch slower. Staring off in the direction they went, far above that opening they were dragged from into the sky as the sandstorm died down. Muttering under her voice an almost inaudible.

“Oh my god…”

Catra grit her teeth, swallowing hard.

“You mean to tell me…”

She stood up, eyes beginning to water as she clenched the straps of his medical bag tightly in her hands.

“You can teleport, but your sense of direction is _that_ bad. That you don’t know where we are…I didn’t get it because I was so focused on tracking them…but what’s your excuse?” Catra snapped.

“W-what?” Glimmer was dumbfounded. Where had this come from? Was this the time for petty arguments?

“What the fuck are you talking about Catra?! We need to find Adora and Tact-“

“There’s not a goddamn thing we can do for them.” Catra cut her off, roughly tying the straps of Tactus’ bloodied medical bag together and slinging it over her shoulder. The plan was screwed at this point, everything was screwed. Heading back to Brightmoon together, making amends. It was all screwed now, and the only thing she could do was focus on what few tasks were left.

Transporting the vaccines and the Phoenix Fire to someone who could utilize them for the rebellion.

“Best we can do for them is get the hell out of here. It’s what they would’ve wanted.” She insisted, walking back the way they came.

Glimmer’s throat felt like it was going to close, she was so furious. Reaching forward and grabbing Catra’s tail. The feline hissing.

“GET OFF ME.”

“ _NO_.” Glimmer spat, grabbing her by the shoulder and spinning her around and pressing her to a wall.

“YOU TELL ME WHY YOU’RE RUNNING. You tell me why you’re abandoning them, right now.”

Catra pushed her back.

“GET THE FUCK OFF ME YOU STUPID GODDAMN PRINCESS.”

The perfect combination of words Glimmer needed to hear. After all this time Catra was still the same person she always was. Glimmer saw red, lunging forward and striking Catra hard in the jaw with a right hook. 

“You traitorous piece of horde SHIT.”

Huntara, snapped out of her horrified stupor. Leaping into Glimmer and pulling her off of Catra. Who held back, even as blood poured out of her mouth. Spitting some on the floor.

The warrior pulling her back out towards the massive hole in the wall, grabbing her by the back of the head and tilting it up to the sky.

“For fuck’s sake, Queenie. LOOK.”

There, almost directly overhead was the worst thing she could’ve ever expected to see. Twinkling above, weren’t the stars that now came with the Etherian skyline as the day turned to night. But the gleaming green lights of the Spire.

They were right on the edge of the encampment. The very same they had scouted early that day at the base of the Spire, filled with easily hundreds of Horde Soldiers and armed to the teeth.

In his haste to get away, Tactus had run both himself and Adora into the very jaws of the beast he had been fearing this entire time.

Glimmer’s lip trembled as she hung her head. Eyes welling up with tears.

It was too much, gods it was too much for her. 

They were so close, by the gods why now? 

Huntara slowly set her down, the Queen of Brightmoon not even bothering to stand, falling to her knees as she began to wail.

Sobbing into the night air and pounding at the ground.

It wasn’t fair. It just _wasn’t_ fair.

A furry hand reached down to help her out first, but not before spitting another bit of blood into the wind.

“Come on.” Her voice roughly intoned.

Distressed as she was, Glimmer took her hand without a second though. Catra pulling her up to her feet and slipping an arm under her. Her own voice cracking as she tried to hold herself together for both their sakes.

“We need to go.”

“She’s right.” Huntara added, her brow furrowed.

“I don’t know how much…if we even can do much. But if anyone can muscle up enough firepower around here to make a difference, it’d be Mama Bonham.”

She says, though not as certainly as she’d like.

There wasn’t much left to see here, and as much as Glimmer wanted to do nothing more than to let out her tears of anguish right there, it would be of little worth to ensuring Tactus and Adora’s safety.

Gripping on tightly to Catra, who despite their misunderstanding and very recent altercation, she still felt comfort to be held by her.

Although she had seemingly been willing to run moments ago, Glimmer understood now it wasn’t what she truly meant. As Catra clung loyally and dutifully onto Glimmer, the words and thoughts of Catra may have been unspoken but her intent was clear.

She was as angry and tired as Glimmer was, and maybe just a touch crazier. But two powderkegs like them, though by no means an army, were going to do everything in their power to get Adora and Tactus back, stop Prime, and save Etheria. 

Unbeknownst to them, they'd have to do it far less alone than they thought. 

A Sorcerer of immense prestige would soon cross paths with them.

Seeking out one of the only leads he had collected. Squinting his eyes as he read the name of the building. The one place anyone new in town would head to in order to seek shelter for the night. 

"Casa De Zepelín..."


	14. The Old Guard

The sandstorm had almost completely passed over Blister. The Spire standing triumphant above all. Electricity crackling around the spear-like tip. Oppressively green as it crackled, a beam of energy descending down from the armada’s above.

In the flash from within the transmat within the spire, came a small phalanx of Horde soldiers. Stepping out of the massive transmat tank, encircling their commanding officer and the other high priority target, a Horde Scientist.

Though they were safe within the spire, the same events that brought the high-ranked officer here had necessitated changes to security. His leg aching as his body struggled to get used to his new parts. Thankful that even with the wrinkles that lined his face, even as much as he stood out amongst the other clones, his leader had given him the ability to walk without need to limp again.

C-100 absentmindedly flexing the muscles which grew tense under his armor as the scientist rambled.

“-The power draw here’s only **_6_** percent. Maximum power draw won’t be capable until after a full conversionary process before tapping into the magical reserves here. This ‘Heart’.” He clarifies, checking over his notes.

“7 Percent is what we need you to pump it up to. Shut off the excessive functions.” The Colonel mentioned, suddenly holding up a finger and pointing it at the Scientist.

“None of the life support functions in containment. Not. A. One. Dim lights if you must, but we’re not tossing away those. Ones.”

The Scientist was well-aware of the Colonel’s supposed ‘bleeding heart’ for preservation of species. So once the phalanx guard had finally brought them to the private offices, he felt that he was suitably in a position to critique the Colonel.

“I will never understand how someone as decorated as yourself would find themselves so protective of these species.”

“He, who is foolish enough to underestimate or feel disrespect for other species, shall find themselves thoroughly and wholeheartedly lost. Surely, someone of the sciences such as yourself would understand that.”

The Scientist snorted.

“They are confounding and bizarre. Yes. I won’t deny that their uniqueness may have certain strengths, but I have spent a great deal of time observing the differences between us and them. Where our forms are strong, capable and resilient, they are stubborn and foolish. Either they are weak and bend the knee to us so quickly, or they fight and foolishly throw their lives away beneath our might. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

The Colonel sneered.

“I disagree.”

The Scientist crossed his arms, raising a brow.

“You do?”

“…Do you not see any honor in it? Foolhardy as it may be, they believe as strongly as we do, as they cling to their beliefs even as they breathe their last.”

“ _Very_ foolish.” The Scientist stressed.

“Colonel, you have not swayed me. Their inherent disbelief in Prime is detestable, as is their weakness. This is mere fact, and they are beneath us. Quiet frankly, I disagree with the ‘Great Baptism’, but if it brings more to our flock and into Prime’s light, so be it. You however, should best not pretend that your stance towards it is anything more than an old soldier seeking out an easy solution. Afterall, if this works there won’t be very much for you to fight, will there? You can finally be recycled.”

The Scientist spat as he cleaned under his nails. Personally, believing there wasn’t much of the Colonel viable enough to recycle once this was over.

The Colonel’s fist clenched in fury, sighing before a grin creased across his face.

“Hah, perhaps you are right. You’d best prepare then for the Baptism, I have work elsewhere I must prepare for.” He says, adjusting his visor to release the sweat that had trapped itself between the metal and his face.

The Scientist chuckling and patting the Colonel on the back.

“You had me going there for a bit! I was a nano-angstrom away from calling you a damned _heretic_!” he remarked. Cracking his neck and heading for the door. The Colonel was correct afterall, the procedure would require as many hands as possible. Especially with the fall of some of the other spires around Etheria. Whatever was left would need to double their efforts to make up for what was lost.

“I’d better leave.” He resigned, producing a tablet for him. 

“Before I forget, the results.” He passes it into the Colonel’s open hands.

“Walk with Prime.” The Colonel bid him goodbye, The Scientist giving a small salute back.

“As He Walks with Me.”

With the sealing of the door behind him, the Colonel glared at the empty space the Scientist left behind. How someone could not comprehend the inherent cause and effect between other species and themselves he would never understand.

All this talk of enlightenment that they bestowed upon so-called ‘lesser’ species had done little in the way of improving them. It was only through conflict they seemed to learn, but what of the untold wealth that could be shared if only they worked together rather than fight?

Lamentable it was, that he were bred for combat and not something more useful. For all their talk of Prime’s Divinity, still they struggled to match up to so many species. Merely throwing lives away, though to the more zealous the debate over what constituted a ‘life’ was ongoing. The only life deemed to matter, was Prime’s. All else were merely tools for his conquest.

But what pride was there to take in a fruitless conquest of vanity? Regardless, the position were he not here would inevitably be taken by someone else. Someone bloodthirsty or looking to prove themselves. A zealot like that pig-headed Major that trounced around in his boots. Throwing away lives on both sides for the chance to be looked favorably upon by Prime.

Much as he detested his very existence in such a role, he at least took some solace in the idea that he could minimize the damage. That was all that could be done, he rationalized.

He shuddered to imagine what would’ve happened to someone considered such a free-thinker in the earlier days. But as long as his unique style was considered useful, Prime wouldn’t bother to search his thoughts, at least not directly. The back of his skull itching at the memories of being directly connected to the hive-mind.

No, his opinions were safe so long as he did not upload them into the new database servers. Prime only demanded battle information and tactical knowledge, he did not need thousands of his flock to pester him with useless drivel.

As much as Prime purported the notion that he could see all, he’d always have his blind spots. He’d never know the disgust he felt for the Great Baptism, nor the fear in his heart for the ones which the process had not been tested on. The twinging discomfort in his leg made him sympathize with those whom Prime had deemed ‘unfit’.

Trapped eternally within the maw of such an inherently broken beast, there was little he could do but except his fate as he descended further down into its gullet. Staring out at whatever hopes he had for those which dared to fight. Even if he knew their fates would be to face untold suffering, he still held them in his mind with the highest of regards.

Those with the truest of strengths, which he could never even dream to possess.

But whatever hopes he had came crashing down, as his temporary office at the spire lit up with alarms. A screen popping up, taking him to the views of one of the lieutenant’s down below.

“Colonel!” He shouted, the haggard older clone turning to face the screen.

“Well? You’ve got my attention. Go on then!”

“It’s the Aviarian. We’ve got him.”

The Colonel’s heart dropped.

“Dead?”

“Almost. But it’s not just that sir.”

The Lieutenant on the other side tilted the camera downwards to their newly acquired prisoners. Covered in blood and already being strapped in with collars and binds.

“It’s the _She-Ra,_ Sir. We got her.”

* * *

Traveling as far as he had, Micah to some degree hoped to find comfort in the Hostel. Either with the arrival of knowledge on his daughter’s whereabouts, or simply as a place for his party to spend the night. The town of Blister was buffeted by the sandstorms, a most common occurrence. But for the old sorcerer it had been a nightmare.

Surrounded in such winds that clouded the senses and blanketed his vision in the endlessly unseen. He felt like a man beneath a grate, drowning inches away from his escape. Momentarily he could sense his daughter within the town but there was too much interference, and he felt as if he kept just missing her.

Still there was no word from Adora, and when he arrived at their meeting point and she did not come, an overwhelming anxiety overtook him. Though he waited for an hour, or perhaps even two. He decided to leave a note for her. He’d have to make affairs at the hostel he had heard of, so that at the very least as the Blood Arachnia approached, the party they had left behind would find sanctuary within the storm.

From word of mouth, he knew that this place was discrete, and not entirely sympathetic to the Horde cause. It had taken some convincing, and the transfer of more than its weight in gold, but he had a lead.

“Casa de Zeplín.” He read to himself, standing outside of the converted dirigible. Grabbing the handle and giving it a twist, feeling the telltale resistance of a lock. Proceeding to give the door two sharp knocks upon its front.

Rustling was heard inside before the door creaked open, held on by a chain. Though the person on the other side did not reveal themselves, the man’s voice came out with a snarl.

“Who are ye?” They asked, seeming to sniff the air suspiciously. Clicking their tongue. 

“You smell like shit, and not anyone else I know.”

Micah’s brow furrowed.

“I’m seeking shelter from the storm, for me and at least 4 others. I’m willing to pay a great deal, even if there aren’t enough beds. We’ll sleep on the floor if we mu-“

“Don’t sound like anybody I know neither…” They responded, perplexed by this.

Micah almost bit his tongue, remembering that the town was under lockdown. People were likely paranoid.

“You’re a complete stranger ain’tcha?” The voice responded with an odd smugness. Eliciting the same clicking noise, followed by the clicking of locks and chains. The door swishing open, and a hand pulled Micah in by the collar. Slamming the door shut behind him as he stumbled in.

His eyes adjusting to the dim light and finally seeing the fellow that had been behind the door. A massive bat, dressed like an outlaw. Wearing batwing chaps, a red bandana with two fangs crudely drawn on. Bleach white eyes and his face a mess of scars. A large metal chestplate covering his front and a strange looking crutch under his arm.

“My seeing ain’t the same anymore, but I reckon this feller ain’t anyone we know, is it Tanksy?”

“Nope.” Came the voice of an ancient woman, the desert tortoise stepping out with a short horde rifle, with a thick and wide barrel aimed at Micah’s chest.

A large horned lizard woman stepped out of a hallway. A welding mask covering her face, painted with a broken heart on the front. A massive rock drill attached to the end of her arm where a hand would be. The piece revving and twisting on the metal joint it attached to menacingly. The woman hissing under her mask at the stranger.

Micah, raised his hands up to shoulder level. Not out of fear, but rather compliance. He needed info, as easily as he could sweep the floor with these two, it wouldn’t get him anywhere. People such as this tended to be awfully prideful, from his experience. Those with not much to their name would defend it to the death. He held a great deal of respect for such individuals, but if it came to it, his daughter’s safety would naturally take precedence.

The Tortoise squinted at Micah’s face for what felt like almost a full minute.

“Take that silly disguise off. You got a lot of nerve showing up here alive.”

Now that, had surprised Micah.

“How’d you-“

“Now I may be old…” The Tortoise cut him off, tapping her temple proudly.

“But I don’t forget many faces. Even covered up like that it’s hard not to mistake ya as anyone but the king of fancy ol’ Brightmoon that ‘died’ all those years back. Yer’ face was plastered all over everything for the first five years before they declared ya dead. Think I might still have some posters in the back I was savin’ incase I need some wallpaper I can paint over.”

She cocked her head to somewhere behind her.

Micah breathed a sigh of relief, even if the news of just how long they had held out hope for him returning made his heart ache. He could imagine the look on Angella’s face, the stress she went through until finally she could take it no more. But there he had been, on Beast Island so far away.

“Have you seen a girl, a...” His throat choked up as he felt the pain of so many years hit him. Time he’d never truly be able to get back.

“A woman. Pink hair, cheek bones like mine and just…the sweetest smile and button nose…” He said, wracking his brain for that face he saw only in his memories. It had almost faded away from him, even as tightly as he grasped it. Such a face was beginning to slip through his fingers like the sands that swirled through town.

Mama ‘Tanksy’ Bonham squinted adjusting her rifle’s aim to Micah.

“Why should I tell ya? I ain’t exactly sympathetic to deadbeats.” She sneered.

Micah’s eyes turning to fire as he stepped towards Mama Bonham, fearless in his resolve.

“I didn’t leave her by choice! I fought to try and give her a safer world to live in, and I was marooned upon Beast Island for 20 years.”

Paige scoffed, rolling her eyes and cricking her neck.

“My own pa’ said the same when I met him in a bar last year. You gonna run out on family I’d come up with something a bit more original, Sug.”

“It’s the TRUTH.” Micah protested, tapping his staff on the floor in fury. Magical energy swirling around him. Jones leaning off his crutch and bringing it up, the concealed rifle cocking at Micah’s back as a warning, which he ignored.

“I fought tooth and nail just to survive, with the scars to prove it.” He pulled back his cloak to reveal the long gashes that crawled up his sides.

“I’ve traveled the desert to find my daughter. She’s all I have left of my wife and I’ll be damned before I let anyone stand in my way. Now, where is she?”

Mama Bonham remained unmoved before the sorcerer, a glaze in her eyes, that of boredom.

“Sit down son. Your daughter’ll be back any minute now. All ya gotta do is wait for her. Now go on then, sit. We got some things ta’ discuss, now don’t we?”

Mama Bonham motioned to the dinner table, taking her seat first. Her faithful family taking the hint to stand down. Paige unlatching her massive drill and reattaching her hook. Jones slowly lowering his rifle, placing it back under his arm as his dutiful false crutch.

Micah was relieved to see they had eased their aggression, but he would maintain his firm disposition. If Glimmer really was coming back here, there wasn’t any reason to start a fight here. Especially since he still needed somewhere for them to rest for the night. Sitting down slowly.

“Where is she?” He repeated. Mama Bonham scraping under her claws with one of her longer ones. Cleaning them carefreely.

“Out. Gettin’ a part ah needed fo’ my speeder. Was fixin’ to drive them to the border o’ the wastes come mornin’. Ah take by that look on ya’ face, and all that dirt on ya that’cha didn’t come to liberate my town.” She says with an unmistakable air of disdain for him.

Micah paused, the tired look of the old woman speaking volumes. It was a look as if the world had beaten her down a hundred times, and she had grown weary from getting back up.

“…No. Just my daughter. But we’re here now, for what that’s worth.”

He offered, trying his best to sound considerate and helpful. Mama Bonham’s eyes drifted to a photo, hung on a frame on the wall of the shack.

“No, I don’t believe it’s worth much.” She muttered solemnly.

Micah followed her gaze, and his heart fell. It was these same three people who he sat at the table with, seemingly years younger. Less scars, healthier, standing beside a fresh kill triumphantly in their makeshift armor. Standing with the body of a massive Dunelurker. The colossal sand-dwelling worm at their feet.

Though this image did not contain these same three alone, but four.

A younger tortoise stood beside Mama Bonham, a dust covered hat on her head. Likely in her mid-20s, standing with pride and the rifle Bonham had been aiming at Micah. The same red bandana that Mama Bonham wore draped around her neck.

Micah’s gaze softened to remorse, as he felt the entire room shift as Mama Bonham gazed longingly at the picture. Paige burying her face into her calloused hand, the memories were still as fresh as they were painful.

With an unpleasant growl, Jones hung his head and turned his back on Micah, focusing himself on what lay outside the door.

“Figure’s y’all’d have to go and arrive only after we buried Plaunt.” She scowled.

Micah bowing his head in respect. He had only just found out his wife was dead weeks ago. The anguish he had felt at that moment was no less than likely whatever they were going through now.

“I’m sorry. Really, I am. I-“ Mama Bonham slammed a fist down on the table. She wasn’t making such a fuss for this King to feel sorry for her. Glaring daggers at him as she growled.

“I don’t care about’cha sorrow. I care about’cha word. I got grandkids on the way. You gonna help us or you just going to take your kin and git?”

His knuckles turned white as he held his staff.

“I took an oath when I became King to protect Etheria and its people.”

Mama Bonham’s fist slammed down on the table. Showing her strength as the wood splintered off. Startling the Sorcerer.

**“THEN WHERE WERE YA’ WHEN WE NEEDED YA’? Huh? Why was mah Daughter’s life less important than your own’s?** ”

She snorted in fury, using one of the claws on her fingers to carve through the soft skin on the interior of her palm. Flicking a kitchen knife in Micah’s direction with her other hand.

“I’ve spent mah whole life hearin’ people like ya make all sorts of fancy promises and speeches that never amounts to, hell, that wishes it could one day scrounge up enough excrement to amount to jackshit. But now ah’ve gotcha right where I wantcha. No fancy political nonsense, just a good ol’ fashioned blood oath amongst us lowly people o’ the dirt.”

Extending that bloodied hand, the old woman kept a stern grimace to the sorcerer, she delivered her ultimatum.

“Prove to me, that your blood is your bond. That you, King Mica’ of Brightmoon will free my town. Not fo’ ownership, but simply cause you’re a father and ya get it. That you’d be willin’ to do everything in your power for my kin, so that they can have a world ta’ grow up in free of this damned occupation.”

As her blood dripped down her palm and onto the tablecloth, Mama Bonham almost lost the will to maintain her façade of strength. Deep within her heart, she wasn’t certain he’d accept. She knew that his daughter would be back any moment now, and Micah needed only to run out the clock on her. But things in town were getting desperate, and she didn’t want to make any rash decisions before she expended all her options.

She needed to know with an absolute certainty, that not a single good person existed within the royalty of Etheria before she fulfilled her plan. She had intended to garner sympathy with the Queen of Brightmoon, a younger and seemingly naïve soul. But why bother when her daddy had stepped back into play and might sweep the rug out from under her?

No, someone like this was older. The first generation that took part in the vitriolic negotiations during the original Princess-Horde territory wars. Nothing like the scraps left for their litter of children, who had grown up in a world marred by war.

The Old Guard, which passed the remains of their failures down to whomever was left to take up their mantle. A pitiful legacy to leave their children, the burden of finishing what they had started. That pain etched into Micah’s soul, that awful sensation of failure which ate away at him everytime he closed his eyes. That very same pain Bonham would know she could never peacefully go into the ground weighing upon her.

Perhaps that was why Micah did not react as harshly as he could’ve, for he understood why Mama Bonham was so adamant in bringing forth a better world for her grandchildren. He didn’t dwell on her ultimatum long before he plucked the knife from the table with old and calloused fingers.

An old steak knife with wooden grips, serrated with all those tiny little jagged teeth. Drawing it across his palm, the blade took its bite out of him. Crimson flowing outwards from the wound he had inflicted upon himself. The pain was nothing for him. No worse than anything he had been willing to do for his child since the day he had held her in his arms for the first time.

Setting the knife down as properly as if he had just been using it to eat, Micah stood up from his chair. Reaching forward and clasping Mama Bonham’s equally bloody mitt, sealing the deal.

“I gladly give my own blood freely, for your kin, just as I would for mine.”

A strange feeling of elation filled the old tortoise as their hands parted. She almost felt lightheaded, a small smile eking its way through her. Grabbing a cloth and wrapping her hand up, tossing one to Micah who tied his tight as the stinging pain began to set in.

“Thank you.” He says, already regretting his decision. He wanted nothing more than to simply go home with his daughter and catch-up, but there was still much to do here, as well as all over Etheria. Now with the blood oath, he was just ever so slightly farther from an opportunity to have a peaceful moment.

“Don’t sob too much, that medical feller will stop that from scarring moment he gets back.” Mama Bonham jested, trying to break the tension. It was always awkward after doing a blood oath for someone else. You exchange blood, do your shake of hands, and most of the time you tried to leave as quickly as you could cause the last thing you want to do is just sit there and talk with someone.

Your hand’s cut open! What are you supposed to talk about, really? The deal is done, and things are supposed to go over smoothly. Why chat at all? It’s the closer to the conversation, surely? But they were trapped in the hostel with bleeding hands, waiting for the inevitable arrival of his daughter.

But at the reminder of the so-called ‘medical feller’, Micah was brought back to an urgent concern.

“I have wounded, and a ship on the way. Won’t exactly get through the front doors of Blister. What can I do?”

Mama Bonham snorted.

“We got ways to get your people in and out securely, but how big’s this ship we talkin’? Don’t need ya getting blasted out of the sky if ya fixin’ ta get too close.”

“It’s the Blood Arachnia, well, mostly. Doesn’t fly right now, but we got someone who needs urgent medical attention. Anywhere we can park it at least, and see about sneaking this doctor out to them? I don’t think he can move in his current state covertly.”

“The Blood Arachnia, huh?”

Bonham’s eyes flicked down.

“We got a way out, if you can contact them, I’d tell them to perch behind there’s a mesa in spittin’ distance to the west o’ us. Looks almost like a fist sticking outta the ground. Right behind there, we’ll get that boy out there moment he gets back.”

Mama Bonham groaned as she slid off the end of her chair, planting her feet on the ground and stretching with a satisfied smile. Feeling the crack in her joint as she cantered, locking eyes with Paige and waving her off. The massive lizard snatching up her drill bit and returning to the nursery.

Micah reaching into a large pocket and bringing forth the datapad, tapping it and receiving a spotty connection at best. Throbbing pain in his hand frustrating him.

Yet again he questioned the concept of blood oaths, why it always seemed to be blood from the hand or palm of the hand. So many nerves, but perhaps it wasn’t just the blood but the pain that was meant to make something like this so important.

Upon seeing the king tilt and adjust his datapad with a look of bewilderment, Mama Bonham rolled her eyes. Collecting the knives to wash in the sink.

“Try upstairs, probably get a better chance at a signal up there.”

“Right.” Micah agreed, stepping towards the steps as Jones kept ‘watch’ over the door.

He couldn’t get over the lack of Adora at the meeting point, and he mulled over the idea whether something may have happened. But still he received no alerts from the necklace he had lent her. If something was wrong she would have activated it, surely. Still, he considered setting his off. He’d need to ping her with it so she could know where they’d be staying the night. Or rather, he supposed, the next few days or however long it’d take for him to help liberate the town.

Based on the reports he had been sent by General Lumina since they had left Brightmoon, it’d be quite a feat to pull off. Legendary to do so even. 

The Princesses had found Prime’s Spires an almost impossible challenge, and what little info that could be gathered made them seem at minimum, a fortress borderline impossible to breach.

So, the goal had simply been to hit the Spires with whatever magical or otherwise weaponry capable to disable them. At least a few spires being completely toppled. But that came with its own issues, as Prime had put out self-destruct orders. The entire spire being fried with a shock, leaving no information or even clones onboard left to speak of what had occurred.

Without Entrapta there, they weren’t even able to salvage much of the tech for future use. The Etherian Maker’s community stepped out of the woodwork to assist as much as they could in the wake of Prime’s arrival, doing whatever they could. But capable as they were, Prime’s methods were absolute, as a wave of electricity would radiate down the whole tower, destroying anything it it’s path.

Micah pulled himself over the last step, finding he had a suitable connection he established a link.

Fizzling to life, Scorpia’s tired face appeared. She was stressed and her hair stuck up at odd angles, the camera rocking as the Blood Arachnia weakly glided over the sands.

“Heyyyy King Micah!” She spoke, trying to seem casual and lighthearted despite the obvious terrible circumstances. The metal panels rattling behind her as a loud uncharacteristic hum droned from the ship.

“We’re getting closer to your location, and we can’t help but notice on the scanner it’s kinda sorta filled with Prime’s Horde, and with Bow being _kinda-sorta_ one foot in the grave, we’ve been wondering if you had any ideas on what to do or…”

Micah held up a hand, silencing Scorpia.

“We’ve located them and where they’re housing. Doctor should be arriving soon. Should be a Mesa due West of Blister. Shaped like a fist and wait for someone to arrive. Moment the medical professional gets here I’m sending him over.”

Relieved, Scorpia seemed to chipper up.

“OH, THAT’S GREAT! Hear that Bow? Just gotta hang in a bit longer, okay buddy?”

A weak groan was heard from off screen from the fallen archer.

Scorpia hollering back to Entrapta.

“Didja get that? West of Blister, by the Mesa that looks like a fist!”

The scientist shooting a question back.

“Open or closed fist?”

“If it were an open fist, would it really even be a fist? That’d just look like a palm.”

“Could you ask?”

Micah, feeling a wave of exhaustion strike him, clarified.

“Pretty sure it’s a closed fist.”

“CLOSED FIST!” Scorpia relayed with a shout, giving Micah a reaffirming nod.

“We’re on our way your Majesty.” She gave a salute, Micah returning the salute.

“Over and out.” He finished, shutting off the datapad and letting out a soft sigh. Tightening the cloth that was wrapped around his bloodied hand. Even just that minimal movement had almost caused it to slip off.

This would likely scar, but it was just another memory of what he had gone through and would be willing to take for his family to once more be whole again. Or rather, as close to whole as it could be now without Angella. Still, he had his inevitable meet with his daughter again to look forward to, but should she take any longer he debated on actively seeking her out again.

But if she was sure to return, why miss an absolute chance? Why waste an extra second out there were he possibly capable of having a near miss with her. But if he stayed, he would lose ever more precious seconds were he capable of actually finding her again. A conundrum, that needn’t be thought over any longer.

Jones’ ear twitched as he heard rapid footsteps against the sands just outside. He would’ve pulled his rifle had he not already known they were not those of a clone. Too short in timing, therefore someone shorter. Hurried, which didn’t strike him as a confident soldier, with far lighter footfalls not befitting those of someone wearing boots.

As they neared, Jones cracked the door open a tad. Just open enough for him to bestow his trademark sense of humor.

“What’s the magic word?”

“Not **fucking** now!” A growl came out from the other side. Jones snickering.

“Not quite ri-“ A hand’s worth of purple fingers wrapped around the door, shoving it open as Huntara burst through. Nearly toppling the bat.

“Easy!”

Micah just barely flicked his gaze down the steps to catch the commotion below.

“MAMA BONHAM!” Huntara shouted in distress, as two more figures accompanied her. A magicat in a bizarre getup, of a red duster vest, cowboy hat and goggles, a white jumpsuit underneath. Micah couldn’t get the best look at who was beside her, but his blood grew cold.

That had to be her, underneath that hood. A tuft of her mother’s pink hair sticking out, those same sparkles she had been born with twinkling out at him like some distant star. She didn’t turn her head, she just seemed to stare at the cat beside her with a distant look on her face. Her eyes were red under the goggles from tears. Micah’s voice catching in his throat.

She was so much older than he expected, but he should’ve known. But she wasn’t just older, she was tormented by something that was happening, something that had happened to his baby girl. He was filled with the urge to rush down there and hold her tight, to tell her that everything was going to be alright. But as much as he stared at her, his soul grew hollow with her very image.

His time on Beast Island had been both seemingly eternal yet fleeting to his memory. Even as they had talked on and on about finding his daughter, he struggled to divorce himself from the expectation of a 3-year-old child waddling through the door. But to hold himself to such a distant memory was wrong to the daughter he had, the one which stood below. He needn’t only divorce himself from the expectation, but unite the two beings in his mind, for she still seemed like such a stranger.

Familiar, but strange all the same.

“MAMA BONHA ** _AAAAM_** ” Huntara screeched, Jones covering his ears in pain. Thumping coming from down the hall as Paige returned.

“She’s not _that_ deaf!”

“But ah’ am that slow.” The tortoise grimaced as she ambled around a corner from the kitchen.

“What the hell’s all tha’ screamin’ about?”

“It was Adora…” Glimmer spoke through a trembling voice, the events of the past hour rattling her still. The words that sprung from her mouth seemed impossible, but as they poured out of her lips, they cemented themselves as fact. All eyes on her, and even a pair she hadn’t noticed above, staring in horror as she relayed the misfortune that had occurred.

“Adora and Tactus have been captured by the Horde.”

Micah felt his legs buckle out from under him, holding onto the railing and his staff as trembling shakes filled his limbs. He should’ve never asked for them to split up. They should’ve searched together, and this wouldn’t have happened.

Now, so many years later he was fool enough to make the very same mistake that cost him so many years with his daughter again. Damning Adora, that stalwart and dependable young soldier who accompanied this far, with such roaring determination to see his daughter and him reunited, to whatever horrors Prime had in store.

“Adora’s been captured?” Micah questioned in disbelief. Finally, Glimmer noticed the new person in the room, her eyes flowing up the stairs to the man holding a staff. His features so similar to hers, a beard on his face just like someone she had seen in the most distant of memories. The way he stood was just the same as the tapestries and murals.

There was no question who he was, and Glimmer’s heart pounded. So fast and so powerfully, her blood coursing through her body as her ears began to ring. Her throat felt as if it was starting to close as the stress began to get to her. Her body grew numb, and her chest felt cold. She could barely breathe out a single pained word of recognition before she lost consciousness.

“Dad…?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, this is Blue the Author here. We're nearing my 1 year anniversary since I started writing fanfiction here on AO3, December the 23rd. I don't think I'll be able to do the big celebration I had planned, due to a mix of very recent events in my personal life that need be attended to first. That said, I'd like to thank all of you who've supported me this past year at the very least. You've all kept me sane during this quarantine, and I'm thankful for each and every one of you whose contributed with kudos, repeat views, art, comments. Any type of interaction you have on my dumb stories. Thank you. There's no way I would've been able to keep going this long without your continued support. I hope the holidays remain kind to all of you, and if you don't here from me until then, I wish you all a Happy New Year.


	15. More Than Beasts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Been awhile, huh? Been working on this one almost all month. This is easily the longest chapter I've written for this fic yet, and nearly 12k. Plus it's a bit of a doozy, but I hope it'll keep you entertained enough that you'll want to read it all at once. If you can't, obviously that's fine. It's a big one, and you'll likely need to take a break somewhere. Just thought you should know now. So get some tea, and some snacks or whatever it is you read fanfic with, and get ready for this. Also probably some tissues.

Adora awoke to the feeling of her face throbbing with pain. Every time she felt her blood pulse through her body, that same continuous ache pulsed. Her head felt tighter on that side, where the bird had clawed at her face down to the bone. Her eyes fluttering open.

Or at least, one of them did.

The other eye was shrouded in darkness, and with a hand she tried to reach toward where the tightness across her face was, but to no avail. Her hand refused to move from its position at her side, though now that her eyes were open, she understood a few of the perplexing sensations she was feeling at that moment.

She had thought at first, she was lying in an infirmary somewhere on incredibly soft sheets. For nothing else could’ve explained the sensation of weightlessness she was experiencing, aside from just this. Weightlessness, as she was suspended above the ground, in some rounded chamber, slightly more than the size of herself. Trapped behind a green hued energy field. Her hands forced to their sides, restrained by forces unseen as were her legs. Completely suspended above the ground in an upright position.

Her eyes scanning the room she was in, almost entirely bare and solid white. Like marble, but not quite. It didn’t look like normal rock. It was almost metallic, but nothing looked quite like that, nothing from this world at least.

But why couldn’t she see out of her eye? No, she should be focusing on where she was, captive. Where? By Prime? Likely. The last thing she remembered was the loud bang, something grabbing her and feeling a hard force against her skull. A second throbbing was pulsing at the back of her head, almost indetectable with how her face ached.

The bird had dug deep, probably deeper than even some of Catra’s worst lashes.

Now, Adora wasn’t one to panic. Glimmer was alive, as was Catra. Where the doctor for Bow was, she had no idea. But she was somewhere, and she was at least alive enough to need to get out of there, but all she could see from her position was just more wall. She couldn’t even turn around, to where she thought the door was. Or maybe it was that corner of something at the edge of her field of vision.

Her jaw felt tight too, flexing it, and feeling tension along her jawline.

A bandage, that’s what was bothering her. A big bandage covering the left side of her face. That’s why she couldn’t see out of that eye.

“Just heard your breathing pick up, finally awake?”

A voice called out from behind her, the bird she had been chasing, she was sure of it. Just out of her line of sight.

Though she couldn’t see him, sure enough he was there. In his own containment pod with his back to hers. His visor stripped from him. The owl suspended off the ground, breathing slow ragged breaths.

She had landed more than her fair share of blows in the previous fight, and the fact he was still conscious at all would’ve been a miracle, were it not for the Horde’s tendency to steal everything they were from other groups they had conquered. Aviarian Medicine included. A weaker solution coursing through Tactus’ body at that moment which was at the very least keeping him from completely passing out from agony. 

Clearing a dry throat, she answered him. Or rather, she answered his question by broaching her own.

“Where are we?”

“Captured.”

Tactus replied weakly, his head low with grief.

Minutes ago, he had been panting and shaking with fear. The moment he had realized where he was, he had wanted to scream. Curl up into a ball and die, anything but be here. He had run so far away and been so close to freedom that to find himself dragged back into the horror that was the past fourth of his life left him feeling empty.

It was worse than simply waking up to find he was back in his cell, as he had feared everytime he closed his eyes to sleep. This was to wake up knowing that his chance of freedom had slipped from his grasp. Even as tightly as he clung to it.

It would’ve been better to have died at Adora’s hand, a tragic mistake for sure. But at least he would not live through the shame Prime would bring to him. The clipping of his wings, or perhaps the grinding down of his beak as he often feared. Perhaps he would be paraded infront of what was left of his people as a reminder to them, that to anyone who dared to stand against Prime would be made to crawl.

But strangely they did not place a new collar around his neck, at least not yet. Perhaps they would simply kill him? A blessing, in truth.

Adora meanwhile was a touch surprised the Bird was able to speak at all.

“You ok to move?”

A beat passed.

“Were it possible? I could manage…Sorry about the face by the way….”

The Blonde’s head was still aching, but considering how they had both given eachother their fair share of blows, Adora didn’t think much of it.

“I’ve been willing to forgive people who’ve done worse…” She muttered, figuring he might be able to patch her face up later anyways.

Adora’s eyes darted around for something, anything she could use.

“Help me out here, uh…” She racked her mind for the name the bird had shouted at her.

“Tactdus?”

“Tactus.” He clarified with a sigh.

“Last Noble of the Hemo Invicta bloodline…” He finished, feeling shame in his soul. He would be the last of the rulers of Aviaria to die. Outlived them all with nothing to show for it except to have helped the Queen of Brightmoon go free.

Perhaps his rite had finally been completed if the escape from Prime’s Citadel and facilitation of the Vaccines escape would count as a miracle. Perhaps he’d finally go down as a king in whatever footnote of history he was placed under.

Adora tugged at the non-existent straps.

“How do we get out of this?”

“We don’t. Took me years to figure out a plan to escape and two more people. Two new variables.”

Two new variables.

“You mean Glimmer and Catra, right?” Adora asked, her curiosity piqued on how they had even gotten out of there. But more importantly where they were.

“Are they safe?”

Tactus nodded slowly, not that Adora could see.

“Yes. If they have any sense they’re running as far as they can from here. I hope so at least…”

Adora knew them better than that. Catra might run, but Glimmer wouldn’t. She always wanted to rush headfirst into whatever fight she could, especially for her friends. Though how she’d fare against Prime’s forces she internally feared for. She had a tendency to be too headstrong, and with how they had given them trouble before she worried that Glimmer might get herself hurt trying to save them.

Adora didn’t want that. She was sure Prime probably wanted her alone, and if giving herself to Prime could make all this stop, or maybe if she could take him out the first chance she received then maybe, just maybe she could stop this war in its tracks. Whatever it took.

But she felt a strange tone in her newest cellmate’s voice that made her uneasy. Feeling the need to try to asway his concerns, she pondered on what Bow would say in a situation like this.

“Glimmer won’t run. She’ll come for us, I know it.”

“I hope she doesn’t.” Tactus’ voice echoed off the walls in the silence that followed. Although she could likely understand his sentiment, Adora needed someone to help her get through this.

The Bird had thrown her for a bit of a loop during their fight, and his claws were something else entirely. If they had an opportunity, anything to get out of here. She needed him with her.

“Why would you ever…hope for that? You got as far as you did, you fled as far just to give up?”

The bird felt a tremble run through his body of rage. Give up? Is that really what she thought he had done? His breathing was painful, as he felt where his cracked ribs ached, from her boot. He wanted to grab her and shake her. Question why she had ruined her chance at being free, even if he knew he might’ve reacted the same.

His anger was misplaced, and he knew it, and even as he considered letting his hate overtake him it petered out into a sob as a lifetime’s worth of stress reached its breaking point. Were he not speaking through a translator, surely his voice would have been cracking and he would not be able to speak between the tears in anything resembling an approximation of speech.

“I…am tired, and I am ready, Adora. I was first captured at an age when our kind barely escapes their adolescence. I witnessed my family, my friends, my entire home die. When the first night arrived, and the door slammed shut I cried and sobbed for what felt like weeks, months. It was then that I had realized that not only was I trapped, but that there was not a single person left alive who would’ve cared enough to rescue me…”

Tactus’ gasps of anguish as tears rolled down his face painted as much of a picture as Adora needed to see. She was rendered nearly speechless.

“I…”

“…But now I hope they never arrive.” Tactus continued.

“Because now that I know I have someone who cares enough out there, I’d rather they just run and run and _run_. I don’t want them risking their life for me or risking everything I worked for to keep them safe. Right now, I’d rather just die.”

The Owl lowered his head, hoping that he could get his tears out before any clones arrived. He didn’t need any stories that would embellish the misery he’d be in during his final hours.

Adora felt guilty that they were even such a position. But worse, to have seemingly and cruelly stolen his chance at freedom away from him. Thrusting him into a world of suffering which was likely meant for her. Just for her, because why should the universe decide any different? She was She-Ra, and this was her burden, not anyone else’s. It was her duty to take whatever opportunity she could to end this, all of this.

Adora wracking her brain for anything and everything that could work.

“Wait, Tactus…Tactus listen to me, it may not have to come to that.”

Tactus through his sobs heard her, lifting his head up curious.

“What?”

Trying to speak through the throbbing in her skull, she tried to form the right words to explain a plan she had brewing.

“We’re in this container thing…right? Well, they must need to transport us somewhere…you following me?”

Tactus’ brow furrowed.

“No.” He admitted with total honesty.

“If they’re transporting us, then at some point they’ll need to release us. If they haven’t released us yet or moved us, then there must be a reason, yeah?”

Tactus considered that maybe it’s because they were so heavily injured and still healing, well, mostly him. But his eyes followed down to the bottom of his containment tube and spotted seams near the bottom.

The entire tube he was trapped in wasn’t bolted in or otherwise molded. It was built to come free, maybe might even hover along. Made sense anyways. But Prime had teleporters, why leave them here if they were already loaded up with healing potions?

“You’re right. But why?”

Adora would’ve shrugged were she capable.

“Don’t know, but we can worry about that later. My bet is they’re going to open this at some point. If they open mine, I’m going to try to turn into She-Ra if I can. I don’t really know how I did that earlier, but when I do I’m going to try to get you out of here too, okay?”

Tactus wasn’t so sure they’d be opening the cases anytime soon. But nonetheless, he had more hope in his heart now than he had a second ago. It was something to grasp, and to die with a fight was more honorable than inside a tube.

Even if truly, he knew it was deeply foolish to believe such an opportunity would arise, his opinions would be left unsaid. The door to their joint cell slid open.

Stepping into their line of sight was the familiar clone, at least familiar to Tactus. Wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and his hair almost pure white. His leg in an armored apparatus, replacing the limping gait he had with a loud rhythmic clunk that matched his healthy leg’s steps.

Slicking what remained of his hair back with a hand, and a deep sigh. The Colonel stepped in, eyes mournfully turning to the bird.

“You should’ve fled farther.” His voiced oozed disappointment, taking one last glance behind him before the door closed tight. Eyeing Adora.

Adora stared at him questioningly, he didn’t look like any of the other clones at all. The age in his face.

“Horde Prime, I presume.”

A dry chuckle escaped the clone, shaking his head. Amused by her boldness, but not quite in a jovial sense. Speaking in a grave tone as he paced around their tanks. 

“Hate to disappoint, but no. Been C-100 since I popped out of my tank, rank designation Colonel. And you must be the Eternian my men have notified me of, and…Tactus of course…”

He shook his head with that same mournful grimace. Tactus’ mouth agape as the clone stood there. His beak suddenly clicking in fury.

“I should’ve killed you back in that Med-Bay.”

Tactus sneered, any previous feelings of pain and misery replaced with pure vitriolic hatred. He knew his own weakness for the clone was a mistake at the time, and sparing his life was going to bite him some day. He just never imagined it’d be quite like this.

He hoped the clone would have perished in any of the numerous explosions that happened in the citadel that day. But of course Prime gave him back his old position. To hunt down Aviarians. How could he have forgotten, that even if he had been so polite to him for years, and even tasteful in battle it didn’t change things at the end of the day. The man worked for Prime and bore his image. There wasn’t much that could be done about that, and for Tactus to have failed in acting against him that day, was an insult to his own people.

At The owl’s spiteful words, the clone seemed almost hurt. Stopping in his place.

“Where is Prime?” Adora spat at him. The Clone shaking his head, pulling down at the back of his shirt’s neckline.

“Closer than I’d like, but not coming as soon as we could dread.” He scratched at the back of his neck with a single long finger, flashing it to Tactus. A familiar little chip design on the back of his neck, plugged into his outlet.

“ _We?_ ” Adora questioned incredulously, spotting the same weird chip sticking out of his port. An antenna sticking out with the tiniest bulb at the tip. Darkened for now, but sure to change soon.

“I’m sure the kid here is quite aware of how deeply intertwined Prime will be soon enough. I was able to delay him momentarily. Long enough for us to have a private conversation at the least.”

Tactus knew quite well indeed. A safeguard against the previous tactics they had used against Prime. One-way transmission of thought, rather than the crude full sensory takeover and chipping days of old.

These weren’t brought out much anymore, Prime preferring to appear solely in holograms from the comfort of his sanctum. If he was going to be assuming control of a vessel today, then clearly Adora’s presence had him interested.

An Eternian, that’s what the Colonel had described her as. Of course, that made sense. The Old Travelers, The First Ones, The Great Settlers, whatever term was used for them tied back to the same group. Another group that had given Prime trouble in the past, or so Tactus had gleamed from passing conversations and occasional file studies in the brief moments they had pulled him from his cell.

A likeminded and powerful group not that different from the Aviarians, though considerably more advanced in plenty of subjects other than potionry of course. Curious beings with hidden magical reserves in their bodies. Tech beyond one’s wildest dreams. Capabilities that made them a nightmare for Prime. If this person at his back was truly an Eternian, then perhaps he wouldn’t be the person in the room Prime hated the most this time around.

He was almost jealous.

But Adora still wasn’t quite getting it. She could tell there was some crazy body modifications and indoctrination going on amongst his clones, to her the words he spoke still sounded like nonsense.

“What are you talking about?”

Frustrated, C-100 growled as he spoke.

“I got some stuff I need to say, while I still got time to say it, and you two are going to listen dammit.”

He glared daggers at her, and Adora figuring that if he was stalling Prime for them, surely, he had a reason. The Clone sighing deeply.

“When the time comes, please for your own sakes, surrender.”

Tactus scoffed.

“Unlikely.” He said, despite being very clearly captured he didn’t consider this a surrender. There were only two options in his mind, do everything possible to, in the unlikeliest of scenarios, break free, or be executed.

“We’re not surrendering to Prime.” Adora added with a firm glare.

“You _really_ don’t get it.” The Colonel restated stopping infront of Adora. He didn’t speak with the kind of fanaticism of Prime’s typical soldiers. Relaying what he understood as if he were pleading with a child holding a grenade.

Beseeching them desperately not to pull it, as if he had a stake in this too.

“I’d rather die than surrender myself to Prime.” Tactus restated, causing the Colonel to explode.

“Dying is easy, **_LIVING IS HARDER._** ”

He fumed, as if such a decision were simple. As if the decision to die was so easy for him, to die rather than deal with the unpleasant nature of life outside of one’s own control, when all that made sense to him was doing what was seemingly best in everyone’s interest.

“We’re not talking land or honor, or anything ridiculous like that. I’m talking about who you people are. Prime’s advanced his tech to a new form of Baptism. Your minds and bodies will be his, he will dominate your every sense, your very existence. And not just you, but everyone on this planet, and after that everyone on every planet, then in every galaxy, and in every dimension and all of existence.”

Tactus’ eyes grew hollow, as he remembered the days before they found Prime’s original flaw. People turning against eachother, rampant chaos until some brilliant Crow figured out how to reverse the flow of information. They nearly killed Prime that time by flooding him with so many voices, almost smothering him out of existence.

“How? The Aviarians, we stopped that. We...”

A few more quick taps of his metal covered foot against the floor, in his cantorous

Tick-tick-tick

The Colonel brought a finger to his mouth to motion Tactus to keep quiet as he circled around him in yet another lap around the room. Frantic almost, as his appearance seemed to grow more and more disheveled with each sentence.

“I’m sure he’ll take great pleasure to explain it all in detail momentarily. But for your own sakes, _LISTEN_ to me.”

Adora staring in muted and continued horror as she tried to comprehend what he was saying. A way to take an entire person over? Not just one, but everyone and everything? The power needed to do that, and it all funneled through here? Why now, why her?

“Your only chance of survival, for any shred of your soul to stand a chance to continue existing is to give in willingly. Fighting back...” He paused, as if disgusted. Shuddering as his eyes seemed to water. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Underneath those eyes he could see them still, what they were doing to them and would do to everyone.

“I’ve seen what happened to the other inhabitants here when it was tested on smaller scales. The ones that fought back they-“

“Let us **_go_**.”

Adora pleaded, breaking through the Colonel’s distressed demeanor. Scraping at the edges of his mind as she made her case.

“If you don’t want it to happen, you have a chance to stop it, right here, right now. So please let us go, and we’ll do whatever it takes to bring this down.”

The Colonel hesitated, and spotting an opening, Tactus came in for the assist. Not sure how much of what he was saying he genuinely believed, and how much of it was him saying whatever he had to in some attempt to convince him to open the containers. What would happen after, he didn’t know.

“She’s right. You’re not like the other clones, you’ve…I spared you that day because I knew you were different. You weren’t like Prime or the Major, you saw…you saw the people and saw them as people. Not steppingstones for yourself, you empathize, you have Empathy. If you know this is wrong, if you care in the slightest about life, anyone, or anything. Let us go.”

Unable to even form words, the Colonel stood there. Reaching forward to a control panel, situated dead inbetween the two. Weakly as if he were reaching out at a passing boat from the most secluded and isolated of islands.

“Please.” Adora repeated, her words echoing in the Colonel’s mind.

He could do it right now, he could release them both. They likely wouldn’t get far, but it was better than what they were in for. Slipping he wore off into his hand, he stared at them both with his own eyes, unclouded by the stream of information that was constantly meeting him from their databases.

Everything that told him he shouldn’t trust them, as his hand coasted ever further to the switches, he’d need to hit to free them.

Hovering over it as cautiously as if it were a detonator, and he himself was the explosive charge. One action and everything he was, would be forfeit to Prime. No going back.

If he really was in this role to lessen the blow to everything and everyone, maybe this was the moment he was looking for. The moment where he could do one grand act that’d help, maybe make things better. Nothing could fix the things he did, the regrets he had, the things he could never tell anyone.

If only he could get the strength to do it. Casting one last look at the bird he had watched grow up in confinement. Broken as he was, in captivity again.

“I…” He faltered, as an audible crack of electricity flooded the room. A green light reflecting on the metal behind him. Coming from the transmitter chip embedded into his neck.

He had run out of time and he knew it. His one chance and he blew it. The blood draining from his face as he hung his head. Knowing even if he did anything now it wouldn’t be fast enough.

“I’m sorry.”

His hand dropped, as the veins at his neck tensed. Every muscle on him growing taut and his head lowered. A mixture of unpleasant growls elicited from his mouth as his body no longer became his own.

“NO! WAIT!” Adora screamed in impotence, Tactus’ body filled with adrenaline. Prime was coming right now. Tugging at the fields that kept his limbs restrained, Tactus wished that he could simply break free. If only for a moment, trying to flare his wings into shields perhaps to break the machine, but to no avail. Another block on magic, most likely.

Adora screamed aloud the words that always seemed to give her the powers she needed.

“For the Honor of Grayskull!” She blurted, but somehow, She-Ra was distant once again. Why she had been able to call upon She-Ra without the sword or need for speech earlier that day, when she thought her friends were at risk, but not to protect her own self was lost on her.

When the being before them lifted their head again, after the most sickening crack of bone and unpleasant snapping of something inside him. The most unnatural of sights and sounds, the tenseness seemed to slip from their muscles and skin.

When they had finally lifted their head up, there was no doubt that the person that had stood before them moments ago was gone. One last crack of the neck and the Colonel was completely gone. In their place, _he_ stood there now.

Horde Prime, in the flesh.

Those green eyes had a new light to them now, a light that had outlasted, nay, extinguished the flames that had been lit by thousands of planets and their people. With great vigor, that light had sought to sweep a darkness upon galaxies until only one dominant light remained, and now its sights were upon them.

“Ahhhhh~, My, have you ever worn an old robe and thought, ‘Why, I can’t believe this ever used to fit me’.”

He felt the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, not seeming to give a care in the world as he ignored them, even as they fought the fields holding them in place.

“Disgusting, I should have thrown this model out years bef-“

**_“I’LL KILL YOU, PRIME.”_**

Tactus screeched amidst a flurry of furious squawking. His translator reaching noises so loud something began to rattle inside. Every feather on his head puffed up and his eyes seemed to be about to pop out of his skull. Beak snapping and clawed fingers itching to tear into him.

It had been long since he had the opportunity to talk to Prime directly, but every day he had heard that voice. Every day he had woken up and breathed another breath he had dreamt of everything he’d do to Prime were he to ever see him or come even marginally close to a clone that he’d control.

Oath be damned

**“How DARE you speak, language is for creatures More than Beasts, and you don’t belong in this world or any world! Give me a chance, even the slightest and I will tear _you_ and your legacy apart cell by cell until not a single trace of your filth exists.” **

There was a moment of silence, in which Adora felt a bead of sweat run down her forehead. Prime staring at Tactus, completely unamused and unfazed. Almost as if he were trying to think of something.

“…My apologies, I was trying to remember who you even were. But now I remember! The Aviarian Prince, yes? If you’d excuse me, I’m not here for you, though you’re more than welcome to watch.”

He snapped his fingers, and Tactus’ last scream of insulted fury was muffled as his tube’s field grew slightly opaquer. A flurry of curses continued to pour from him. Speech after speech of long simmered suffering, silenced behind that field as Prime tutted with a smug shake of his head.

Adora, couldn’t see what Prime had done, all she knew was that for whatever reason Tactus had grown quiet. One last silent refrain of her chant, barely audible even within her brain as it continued to echo at each edge of her skull. Making laps in the background as if that’d somehow finally get She-Ra to act through her again.

“Hey! Leave him alone!” She defensively demanded, intentionally directing Prime’s attention to focus on her.

Not that she needed to, really.

“There we are! The guest of honor!” Prime flashed his teeth, in mock delight. His eyes lighting up as he stood before his new prize, leaning in to be just inches away from Adora’s face.

“The Last of the Eternians, She-Ra herself.”

The Last of the Eternians.

The _Last_ of the Eternians.

Those words rattled in her chest.

No, she couldn’t think about it. She mustn’t think about it, not while he’s snarling at her in her face. She couldn’t break down, she mustn’t break down. It’s a lie, it had to be she told herself. Telling herself over and over again as he stared at her so proudly. The words worming their way out of her mouth before she even knew they had crawled up her throat.

“You’re lying.”

He chuckled and shook his head.

“Me? I never lie, I only bring absolute truth wherever I go, because I am truth. The Eternians are all dead, because I _willed_ it to be so.”

He wistfully gazed into Adora’s eyes, and found them to seemingly be vacant of the fury he had hoped to see. They merely stared back with a touch of confusion beneath the surface, and it was true. Prime seemed almost disappointed, as if he had been waiting for this day for a long time.

“Pity, perhaps I should have left some of them alive so that you’d hear stories of Prime. Grow up with me as the boogeyman under your bed, or beyond the heavens, waiting for the day you slip up so that I could strike my righteous vengeance down upon you. You seem, unimpressed.”

Adora rolled her eyes.

“You’re an invader, kidnapped my friends, and threatened my home. Plus you apparently made me the last of my kind, what the hell more could you want from me? Make up some speech like the bird back there? I don’t **care** who you are. I want you gone. What more is there?”

Wasn’t the answer Prime wanted to hear, he seemed almost indignantly offended.

“You truly are ignorant to just how…just how monumental this moment is for the course of history. No, you feeble minded creatures couldn’t possibly understand. Your lives are short, and your memories will fail, but my existence is eternal. When your people are barely a whisper on the wind, I shall remember what I did when I finally found the last of you. The Last Eternian.”

His hand reached through the field, seemingly as if it were merely water. Those callous fingers brushing themselves down the length of Adora’s jaw, lightly scratching their way down as she craned her neck to try to avoid it. Tempted to bite his fingers off, but refrained only because she hated to imagine how foul he’d taste.

Tactus’ screeching in the tank behind her seemed to increase, as Prime’s fingers coasted down her face. Well, he _could_ still hear everything, after all.

Grabbing Adora’s chin he forced her to look at his face, eyes filled with malice. Adora spitting at the field, only for it to crackle and sizzle away, as it seemingly was a one-way field. Prime not even caring to mention it, barely even registering she was alive as he rambled on.

“How rude of me, to not inform you of the depths to which my contempt for your people lies. How your people were the first to defy me, seemingly at the beginning of time itself. First Ones, is what you would call yourselves. But you were never the first, not as long as I existed. As we existed before your kind **_destroyed_** us.”

The silence in that room could lull even the brightest of stars to sleep. Adora’s eyes growing wide in shocked silence. Her own people, destroyed his kind? Or did he mean himself? It didn’t make sense.

Prime grinning at her expression.

“Oh, don’t feel too awful. It was before your time, before time seemed to tick at all, even. Though we all looked so very different back then, before your kind evolved into what you are. As great as even I am, the memory of what I was, _why_ I don’t think what I was is something that any form could reasonably conceive of. I was, and still am, beyond comprehension. But _you_ are merely an imperfect, foul mutation of flesh and blood from the first imperfection. I have worked so hard to root you all out.”

With another snap of his fingers, Tactus’ field lost its opacity. The Owl screeching again as soon as he knew Prime could hear him once more.

“You **_disgusting_ ABOMINATION **to all that exists **.** ”

“Said the disease, to the cure.” He retorted, pivoting on his heels.

“Really, Tactus. I imagine you of all people would be able to comprehend this the most. Your own people were masters of medicine, I even held the tiniest modicum of respect for you all, because I thought your people out of all of them would be able to understand why I exist. Why I do what I _must_. Would you be so kind as to explain to Adora what I am?”

She had enough, a flash of light coming from her. Power welling within her.

**“I don’t CARE what you are. Just, leave him alone!”**

But just as she felt she was about to reach the climax of her transformation, just as she was about to reach the catalytic moment her change was cut short. Feeling light-headed as her chest grew hot in her container. Prime haughtily grinning at her defeated face.

“Not going to work. A wonderful attempt, but one I can’t let slide.” He says, twisting a dial on the console. Electricity arcing off the base of the container and bouncing off the fields. Contacting with Adora’s body as her senses will filled with pain, as the searing bolts coursed through her. The powerful smell of iron in the air, as her body tensed in such immense suffering, paralyzing her vocal chords in an unending scream until the air finally ran out of her lungs.

The noise was deafening, and Tactus’ ears and entire being was filled with that horrible sound. Shuddering as so many horrific memories came flooding back, of his own screams whenever he had tried to resist. The memories of so many friends long gone as he pleaded to Prime, loathe as he was to do so.

“Stop! You’ll KILL HER.”

Prime laughed, as if Tactus had told a joke. Finding great amusement in the owl’s distress.

“What’s wrong? Your kind has always been so proud to die, so ready to throw themselves to their deaths, for what? Some myth about rebirth, rising from the ashes like your children’s tale about a Phoenix? Pathetic. Your weakness, and their weakness was that for all that talk and willingness to die for a cause, you can’t stand to watch someone else do it, can you?”

As quickly as he had unleashed Adora’s suffering he had stopped it. Adora was practically smoking. Every muscle in her body seemed to ache, even those she wasn’t even aware existed before this. She felt so hot that her stomach churned as if she was about to throw up. Her throat dry as she breathed in a harsh rasp.

Prime speaking in a mock jovial way as Adora slouched in pain.

“Oh! A teachable moment, how wonderful. Tactus, would you kindly explain to Adora what a T-Cell does?”

The owl hesitated, not understanding why.

“What?”

Annoyed, Prime flicked the dial again, holding it for a second before shutting it off. Guilt filling the bird as Adora howled again in pain. Her panting ragged as she felt bile in the back of her throat, once Prime had stopped it.

“Now. Hurry.” He ordered. Tactus flustering as he quickly rattled off a definition.

“It’s a, it’s a-a-a thing! In every person, it’s a system in the person’s-”

“The person’s whaaat?~” Prime interrupted in a singsongy voice, flicking the dial for a millisecond just for the electricity to crackle but not enough to fully shock. Like revving up an engine.

“It’s in the p-person’s immune system…It kills Cancer cells before they…”

Tactus began to piece it together as he realized what Horde Prime was about to imply.

“Before they spread…”

Prime grinned as the realization was spotted in Tactus’ eyes, a mix of indignant rage culminating within that left him utterly shocked and confused.

“Pre-cisely.”

Tactus disbelieving of the insanity as to what he had begun to suspect Prime was leading up to.

“By the Phoenix, I can’t believe it, he isn’t just evil he’s crazy.” He says, remembering that thing Prime had said earlier.

‘Said the disease, to the cure.’

Adora, very, VERY tired with Prime’s games finally went out and said what was on her mind. Despite as tired and sore as she was.

“What in the _fuck_ are you two talking about?”

“Yes, tell us Tactus. What in the fuck, am I talking about?” Prime repeated. He wanted to hear Tactus say it, he wanted to watch Adora’s face as he said it. Finally, she would understand what this all meant, why he did what he did.

Tactus sighed, not out of hate anymore. Now he was just tired as he realized what a waste of everything his life had been, that it had led up to him having to deal with such a pathetic conclusion. He almost couldn’t take Prime seriously anymore as a threat, or even as someone to hate. It was just too insane. The crux of his entire argument for existing and being, rested upon this one stupid conclusion.

“…I…He thinks we’re a cancer...”

Tactus began to hoot with laughter in Prime’s face as he realized how absurd this was. Prime’s look of arrogant satisfaction melting as Tactus began to laugh. An exasperated Adora sighing as she realized how stupid that was.

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me?” It was such a ridiculous point to make, and so needlessly pointless Adora almost found it amusing. Nearly laughable had she any air left to expel. Tactus, however seemed to have broken mental. Squawking with laughter even harder as he saw Prime’s face melt.

“Oh, and he’s serious too! That makes it even funnier! HOO HOO HOO!”

He would’ve tried to wipe a tear from his eyes were he capable.

“I don’t know what I expected from a fascis-"

Tactus felt his muscles contract before he realized what was happening. His ears rung as his entire containment field crackled and his translator began to sizzle. His already aching body felt like it was on the verge of tearing itself apart as the electricity disappeared, quick as it had come. It had been hauntingly familiar, as if he were a piece of wood, a saw carving through him after finding it’s starting groove again.

Only a pain filled gasp escaping him as his vision grew blurry, almost fading away as Prime stood triumphantly infront of the silenced bird. Adora, shamefully as it was, somewhere in the back of her mind was thankful that it was not her who had been shocked this time around. Immediately feeling guilt sprout forth like oil from a derrick as the intrusive thought settled in.

“Silence. I will not tolerate insolence from anyone, especially mutated spawn like you.” 

But Adora, knew how to fight her own inner demons, or at least she believed she did. Immediately doing the one thing that would alleviate such guilt from her mind, drawing attention and inevitable suffering for a goal she believed in wholeheartedly. Catching Prime’s attention.

“Fuck you! You think so highly of yourself that we’re just something for you to get rid of, some mistake? Like you know what’s right and what isn’t?”

Snapping to her, Prime reached for the dial to shock her again, Adora cutting him off as she continued to speak.

“Where’s all that talk of ‘Truth’? You just gonna shock anyone who disagrees? You got truth? Spit it out already.”

Striking a nerve for the prideful monster, Prime snarled, spit flying from his maw as he gnashed his furious refrain.

“ ** _I_ am your future, and _I AM TRUTH_. _I_ am the the path which all life was designed to take from the moment we were barely more than molecules, and only _I_ am the path to your guiding light into all that is and all that will be. Your people were short sighted enough to claim themselves as people of Eternia, when only _I_ am eternal.” **

Tactus weakly laughed, his translator rattling in its damaged state. His voice barely discernible. He sounded like he was talking through an old tin can from inside a tunnel now, but still his words cut like a knife.

“And I thought us Bubos talked too much….Don’t listen to this idiot Adora…I’ve seen their genes…less a gene pool than a gene septic tank…errors they fill with the genes of us so-called ‘mutants’ If we’re so inferior, then what justifies you taking our genes, huh?”

Prime’s eye twitched, but he found his calm. Almost delighted that the bird had somehow found a way to guide him back to the right track.

“We would not need such repairs were your kind smart enough to have recognized our greatness and join us…but there will be no need for choice any longer, for I shall grant you the greatest of salvations.”

Quick as a whip, Tactus shot back.

“I make _potions_ and even I can account for a little variation in products versus reactants, and you can’t? Pathetic.”

But Prime ignored him.

Snapping his fingers, both pods muting and dulling now, as Prime grew sick of the arguments coming his way. Tinting their view, as Horde Prime cricked his neck. Feeling delight, licking his lips once just as a cat does before it pounces on its prey. He’d never admit it, but the joy he felt to partake directly in his ‘crusade’ against other species made him long for the days when he could be here. To savor each moment.

But now that he was here, was to reach the greatest of highs. Stopping infront of Adora. Her one eye keeping fierce eye contact with him. If she couldn’t speak, she could at least take control of the situation in what ways she could. Giving him such a bloodthirsty one-eyed glare, so that somewhere in that thick skull of his he could let the memory burrow deep. She wanted him to know that no matter what happened she wasn’t afraid. 

Tactus was right, this guy was an idiot with too much power who had to breed his own idiots to keep following him, and he wasn’t even much good at that either. Hell, if the Colonel was anything to go by, there were plenty of THEM that didn’t even like him or care for him. This guy was a chump, plain and simple. Any power he had over them wasn’t because he was better, stronger, smarter. He just had the means and the ego to act upon his bullshittery.

He had contradicted himself about 5 times in his brief few minutes here. He was not only fallible, but a constant walking fallacy. He was wrong, and Adora wanted him to know that. He was wrong, and she was going to make things right, that’s all there was to it. Even as he talked, he seemed to thrive on their pain and suffering, he wanted them to hate him. Though Adora would hate him, she knew such theatrics would only continue to feed an already over inflated ego, and once she had the chance, she would kill him as unceremoniously as was possible.

What once was a face she had seen in her nightmares as a child fearing Hordak, who might one day cast her out of her home, she now saw as the face of a buffoon. He wasn’t some god, or eldritch being as he liked himself to seem, even as he found ways to use magic or tech far beyond her previous beliefs of what was capable. He was a monster to be vanquished, belligerent and oafish but with such a sense of self-importance despite so many seeming failures, she was amazed anyone could have such confidence.

It was downright inspiring, inspiring in that it made her want to kick his teeth in. She had fought people she feared or respected more, for far less, and each second she maintained her gaze. Each second, she refused to back down was another second she dreamed of not just taking him down, but of the world she’d be able to return to once it was over. _That,_ was what she had to fight for.

Friends. No, **_Family._**

She wanted Prime to know that, but such a being could not even begin to comprehend what truly mattered, what it meant to care for someone so much more than their self.

Not that Prime was perceptive enough to neither notice, nor care. He simply prattled on, too self-absorbed and focused on his plan. Carefully selecting each of his words to bestow the right amount of gravitas which he believed was suitable to his ‘magnum opus’.

“Too long, we have been forced to scrounge for materials and engage in land wars, opening ourselves up to the inherent animosity present in creatures of lesser stature. We have come again and again to many a world with the intent to bring peace through any means, an existence without war where we all live in harmony and attuned to my perfect vision.

We have been damaged and broken by our fights, and though my better judgement would tell me that I should simply annihilate the lot of you, I understand the importance your numbers would add to our flock. I understand that finally we can all be united again, and that’s what I intend to do.”

Prime reached out a hand, flexing it as a holographic display appeared in his hands, with a few taps of his fingers on what was seemingly a remote, a projection appeared inside the containers. Adora sighing deeply as she realized Prime had prepared a powerpoint presentation. Truly, he enjoyed nothing more than a captive audience. They couldn’t run after all.

Projected infront of them was a map of Etheria, a spinning globe in near perfect rendering. Not the simplified maps of most technical holograms, but a view of Etheria so pristine it could only be a live feed. The shot of the globe panning out as surrounding Etheria were dozens of ships of varying type, in a total blockaded armada.

They were like one massive corpse surrounded by carrion about to be picked clean.

“The planet is blockaded; our troops are in place and our spires are up.” Blips appeared all over the surface of Etheria. Easily a few hundred littering the lands, even some in the sea, seemingly. Though not every light glowed bright green.

“We encountered some…resistance. But this was expected.”

Images flashed of plasma bolts firing down the barrels of horde rifles, aiming at fleeing civilians and the ones that tried to fight back. Adora felt as if she was the one pulling the trigger as the angle adjusted, tilting their head to stare them down and bobbing. She wasn’t just watching footage recorded, but through the eyes of a clone.

Tactus felt his hatred bubble and boil in his throat as he saw the villages burn. Reminded of how his own home had looked when the Horde arrived. As the citizens fled Adora too wondered if this is what happened to her home.

The view changed, again and now they were seeing something entirely different. People in _Etherian_ Horde armor, fighting back. Defending the people of Etheria from Prime. Adora almost thought she recognized one of them, her helmet’s visor shattered. She couldn’t quite remember their name, but she was sure she had seen her often back at practice. Her name was…Isabelle maybe? Irene? Something like that.

She was standing in the middle of a doorway as people fled out the back of the home. A stun baton in her hands, clicking it twice and each time it refused to turn on.

She threw it down and rushed barehanded. A plasma bolt striking her in the chest and piercing her armor, the woman slumping to the ground.

“Pitiful, that for so long you all wore our colors, but couldn’t stand a chance before us, but now you finally can stand at your place. _Beside_ us.”

Another flash, and now they were looking at something that…they weren’t quite sure what it was. It just seemed to be a strange whitish gray lump in a green container. The shape was, or rather, it had once been a person. That much was clear, maybe a human? But whatever they were it was almost all gone.

What was left was malformed, as if every cell began to scream and twist and change. Pulses of electricity running up their body. No, _their_ bodies. The view seemed to pull out, as a pair of green eyes blinked inside staring back at them. Within the other pods even more eyes, of varying height stared. Tiny differences clear behind the glass, in the ears, the teeth, the claws, different number of eyes, limbs. One could see almost a few details from nearly every imaginable species in Etheria as their view strode down the line that was seemingly endless.

“The people of this world, especially here in this town are so…what’s that word you people praise? Ah yes. _Diverse._ That proved a challenge, but like all challenges I believe overcoming it made us stronger.”

Eyes lighting up in the darkness of each pod with each step. Energy climbing up their bodies in waves of electricity. Pulse by pulse whatever they were disappeared.

“No need for rudimentary chips, or potions which backfire. Simple, and efficient.”

Adora and Tactus’ eyes followed the strange forms with slow dawning horror as they realized that not only were they Ex-Etherians, but the pods were almost identical to the ones they found themselves trapped within. Just as the pulses were the same.

Prime could sense the very instant where dread sprouted in their souls.

“My, has it finally clicked? Focusing all on me, and you hadn’t even noticed? You claim you want Truth, well…”

The grinding of gears could be heard, and the slow ominous groan of the metal beneath them shifting. Their pods sliding away from eachother, coming to a stop.

Adora felt herself begin to tremble in fear, just as Tactus was sure that with how his heart pounded in his chest it was on the verge of completely stopping. As if it was pleading to finally cease beating. With each agonized inch their pods began to turn and finally they could face eachother.

And both wished that they could be stricken blind.

The woman Tactus had seen only in the fight from before was like a ghost of her former self. Barely recognizable. Her skin had grown pale, almost as white as a sheet. Her nails had begun to sharpen and elongate. Her eyes had begun to tint a greenish hue, and he could see the blood vessels in her eyes were starting to change to a bluish tint. Her hair was losing its color, already beginning to bleach white.

And the bird’s feathers had begun to fade. His brown feathers were starting to blanch, and what colors he did have started to slowly see sprinkled dots of emerald glisten out. His claws lengthening, and feathers lined the floor of his pod, as they began to fall out in some spots.

Neither were capable of looking at themselves, or even able to feel the changes their bodies had gone through until this point. Totally unable to tell how far along they were, but that’s what Prime wanted. He wanted them not to be able to see themselves or move. He wanted them to only see eachother and see everything that was happening. Doomed to suffer with whatever fears wormed their way into their skulls. Fearing the whole time, completely unsure how far along they were other than by the look on the other’s face.

“ _Here it is_. I do hope you appreciate the lengths we’ve gone through to make this a possibility. It’s quite brilliant, really.”

Adora remaining entirely still as her hair slowly fell infront of her face, seeing the tip of it slowly begin to turn white. She took two strong breaths. Trying to calm herself. It was magic, a trick, and illusion. _Something._

No, this couldn’t be the end.

Tactus remained entirely rigid. His jaw clenched tight as a vice, eyes wide as he began to break out in a sweat. Wondering which would be worse. For it to be from pure unadulterated fear, or fever from what was happening to his body at that moment. He could hardly concentrate on anything as vivid images flashed in his brain of the kind of pain such a process should be having on a person. Coming to the even more horrific conclusions that a loss of such sensation was a neurological issue, and therefore his very mind had already become forfeit.

Prime had won.

But he wasn’t just stopping there.

The globe of Etheria reappeared, those same dots representing each spire did too. But now, lines connected from dot to dot. Soon, they were all interconnected, lines weaving around the planet and forming a net of some kind. Ensnaring the planet tightly within its web. A massive forcefield not unlike the field which surrounded them in their pods.

“Soon, I shall sweep my hand over this planet…” He trailed off, just as one single dot. The one representing the spire in Blister began to pulse. A green wave radiating from it and continuing to spread outwards, as it reached the other spires, they too detonated their pulses. Radiating onwards and onwards, and _onwards_ until finally the entire world was swept up in the wave. A massive pulse of energy just the same as those in the pods.

“And within days, every single inhabitant in this primitive little world, and all its riches and wealth of energy shall be mine, and then…”

He clenched his fist, the image of the globe spreading outwards farther and farther until Etheria was but a speck amongst the thousands of other worlds withing the galaxy. From that tiny little speck another radiating pulse shot outwards.

One massive burst and like that everything at every corner of the galaxy was hit all at once.

“Beautiful…all that power from conquering one tiny little world…” Prime mused to the near petrified pair.

Without hesitation, Adora screamed.

“For the Honor of Grayskull, For the **Honor** **Of GRAYSKULL, FOR THE HONOR OF _GRAYSKULL_**!”

But, just as Prime was deaf to her, trapped in that pod so too was She-Ra, and any connection she had to that power. Adora hanging her head in defeat as tears ran down her face. Feeling weaker just from shouting it, but even so she’d shout it to the heavens were it able to work.

Why couldn’t she turn into She-Ra? She had already proven to herself she didn’t need the sword, why now? Maybe it was whatever Prime had done to her. Blocking her, so that no matter what she tried She-Ra was just out of her grasp. But giving up? No. Not in her vocabulary. She could recover from this, She-Ra’s healing powers, something could help her. There had to be something.

She was supposed to be the hero. She was supposed to win! She had to win, for everyone. If she couldn’t do that, then what good was she? She had to fight it, somehow. Not for her sake, but for the sake of everyone and everything, and it was riding on her. _Again_. Everything would fall apart, and it was riding all on her, if only she could just summon, She-Ra from within her one more time.

Tactus however, took the news even worse. Beginning to hyperventilate as he felt the walls of his containment pod feel as if they were closing in. He had no words left with which to curse Prime’s name. He could swear that he felt it, every single cell changing. DNA being rewritten where his ribs had cracked, he was sure something felt wrong. They itched, and his heart raced. Was it increasing just as a Clone’s heart would reach? 200 Heartbeats a second?

No, that wouldn’t come first. His heart would give out if the process came too quick. Oh, gods what was he even thinking about? How had his life ended up here? He was never supposed to be the ruler of his people, or be here, worrying about a war or anything like this. He was the last in his line, his life purpose should’ve been to be married off to some royal to settle a political dispute. Have a ton of kids, not be _here_. To have his very being stripped of him by some madman. Gods why must his life have come to this?

If there was a chance for a new life, just as the old books had claimed there would be, he’d rather it come for him before he could be turned into one of the monsters that destroyed his home. Before he’d live to see this world fall, and every world after that.

“Still…” Prime continued, the holograms dissipating.

“I must say, that for all the trouble your kinds have been, I have to thank you. Without the adversities I faced, I would never have been able to reach such heights of power. You really should’ve given in, and still should…”

He traces a finger along the console with the leisurely aura one would do across a lover’s chest as the early morning light passes through curtains. Almost hungrily as he knew that with a touch of a dial they would be engulfed within his essence, their very minds rewired to become like him. Their bodies shaping themselves to mimic his image.

“I’ve heard the process can be quite…difficult for some of their minds. But those who give freely are more likely to see a more peaceable transition…I can have that arranged, but all you need to do is simply beg for it. One at a time now.”

Snapping his fingers, the muting halted for Tactus. The Aviarian dazed as the field grew more translucent. On one hand, there was the inherent desire to tell of Prime as he always wanted. But such was an inherently prideful action, and were he able to put aside such pride, would that offer him the opportunity to survive? Not just to survive this, but to find some way to turn this against him? Would it be wrong to throw such an opportunity away, should such an option bring the rebellion against Prime a boon?

But did Prime not gaze at him through the eyes of someone who thought the same? No. Such an action would only debase himself, and knowing Prime this was a trick meant just to stroke his ego. He’d rather insult him, but Tactus of course had hesitated too long. Prime seeing Tactus’ face harden and muting him again. Traipsing back towards Adora.

She had been watching Prime in disgust, maintaining her gaze just as she told herself she would. Having long ago come to her conclusion of what she’d do.

“That was merely a formality in your case anyways, no, I’m far more interested in _your_ decision, She-Ra.”

“I…h” her voice came out weak, coughing in a rasp. Her voice had been strained by all her screaming, and she had almost completely lost it. Prime, that evil grin spreading on his face, leaned in tilting his ear towards her. Tauntingly just past the containment field.

“You what? I couldn’t catch that…”

Her voice continued indiscernably. Prime, not wanting to miss a thing leaned ever closer.

“Still couldn’t catch th- ** _YAAAAAAAAAHKGH_ ” **

Adora seized her opportunity, using what range she could get to crane her neck forward. Clamping her teeth down on Prime’s ear and pulling back as savagely as she could. The taste of copper entering her mouth as she tugged and felt the cartilage grow weak. Tearing off with ease and spitting it onto the floor with defiance.

To remind him, that even as far as he might be. Even if this wasn’t his real body, he could still be made to feel pain. He could still make mistakes, and even _he_ could bleed.

Prime slammed an iron fist into Adora’s chest while clutching what was left of his vessel’s ear. Though something in her chest snapped, she did not flinch, she or lower her head. She glowered in proud defiance as Prime snarled. Fleeing from her to the control panel and fiddling with the dials in a rage.

**“INSOLENT CHILD!”** He roared, a deep droning noise emitting from within the machinery. Power flooding the containers, as a loud beep overcame the droning noise of the containers. Prime letting out a shaky laugh in sadistic delight. He would get his satisfaction from this one way or another. Another beep came, followed by another. They weren’t just random noise, but a countdown.

**“Enjoy this, Eternian. Your last action of free will against me…but within the hour, I shall have you bending to my will. Know that the pain I feel, in this instant, is nothing compared to what you shall feel within the most fleeting of moments in your near future.”**

Nursing his wounded face, Prime exited the room. Leaving the pair to ruminate on their inevitable fate as the beeping noises grew more frequent.

Adora could still taste the copper of Prime in her mouth, spitting against the walls of her container. Thankful that she had the chance to do that at the least, to see that beast feel pain. The briefest flash of fear in his eyes when he pulled back. That of a coward, who hadn’t earned scars in battle. 

She had almost forgotten there was someone else in the room, eyes going up to the ragged owl, whose own eyes were wide with awe and veneration. He revered her guts to make such a move, and wished that he had thought of something so brilliant. Giving her a knowing smile, since attempting to speak to her would be pointless.

His tank was still muted, though Prime had forgotten to mute Adora’s.

“Best I could do…would’ve gone for the neck but I never would’ve gotten close enough…”

A wrinkle was creasing onto her face as the beeping persisted. Ticking away what moments they had left. Tactus’ face growing solemn as he nodded. He knew it wouldn’t have worked to kill Prime, but it would’ve been nice to see at least. He had almost forgotten what horrors lay before him. _Almost._

The silence was thick with words of regret, so many things they had never gotten to do and may not ever. At least, it was silent, until such words finally decided they ought to be heard, climbing out of Adora’s throat as her pain slid down her cheeks.

“It’s my fault…I should’ve…I should’ve turned to She-Ra, or something if only I could’ve….I…”

Tactus shook his head. Speaking to her, even if she couldn’t hear him. His damaged translator only echoing his own words back at him.

“It’s not your fault….”

Adora, ignored his denying headshake, insisting to the contrary.

“No, it is…if not for turning into She-Ra now, but for chasing you here…for not…for just…”

She didn’t want to look at him, she didn’t want to see what his face might look like. What anger was going to be looking out at her from the other side of the room. But look she did, and rather than the look of wrath she was expecting, his face seemed to be contorted into a look of sympathy.

Eyes that stared back at her in total and utter understanding. Shaking his head again and cocking it downwards. Adora following his indication down and spotting his hand. It was stuck in it’s spot, but pointing at himself a few times in an exaggerated way.

“What? No, it…it’s not your fault…It was me, I should’ve…been calmer.” Adora insisted. Doubtfully, Tactus stared back at her blankly. He didn’t believe he was in the wrong, so much as just hated the idea that whatever was going to happen she’d go out thinking she was _entirely_ in the wrong, when he could so easily explain otherwise. Were he capable of speaking at least.

Deciding to instead hold up two fingers, pointing one at her then one at himself. Shrugging.

Adora grit her teeth, she didn’t want to put blame on him. Sure, there were definitely some indications at the time that looked fairly bad for him, but it didn’t feel right. Still, for the sake of peace she was agreeing.

“…It doesn’t matter…I was…I was supposed to be the hero, save everyone…not needing to be saved myself… ” Tactus nodding in his understanding way, letting out a sigh. The beeping had reached a point where there were barely a few seconds inbetween each.

5 at most maybe.

Adora swallowed hard as Prime’s plan crossed her mind again.

“He’s lying, right? He can’t possibly….I…even if he was capable, surely it can’t be….”

Tactus didn’t make any indication or attempt to answer back, because the truth was, he didn’t want to believe it. Adora, didn’t either. So, she didn’t press deeper. She was supposed to be the one holding out for hope, and inspiring it in others. But the worry of having to provide was eating her away inside, or maybe that was the fear of what was to come.

4 seconds between beeps.

These might be her last moments, and her mind turned to all the people she had met in the past few years. The heroes, the geniuses, and the stubborn. People who fight for love, who figure out how to win against the most absurd of odds, and the ones who never back down. Though they had always looked to her for hope, Adora knew that at the end of the day, they were her hope. The people she held onto that made her want to fight for a better world.

The people that saw a Horde Soldier in the woods and took a chance on her, and showed her the joys of what a life worth living felt like. The people she knew she’d be willing to die for, or as it seemed now, to live for in spite of what her life would soon become.

“If….If we’re not making it out of this…I…I don’t know what they’ll do without She-Ra. But, I do know they’re strong. I know that…even without us they’ll make it. Somehow.”

3 Seconds between beeps.

Tactus refused to face her now. He didn’t want to see someone turn into one of those things, knowing full well he would too. It made him sick, and he wanted to think of something better. Think of a world he had once seen. Hot as it was, with the wind blowing past him, so different from the homeworld of his memories. The smiles of friends he had known only for weeks, yet remained some of the happiest moments of his life. Despite all the hardships, the fear and fleeing from the Horde. The stress of survival, his memory of them in that room. The last memory he thought he’d ever have of them. Smiling at eachother, alive and safe.

It was something he could hold onto with joy, knowing that no matter what happened to him now, he knew he had made a difference. All the ache of lasting for years in that cell, all the pain that had been endured. It all mattered, every single moment of it.

2 Seconds Between Beeps

When he finally did look back at Adora, his face was awash with his own tears. Now that the two had both begun to sob together, perhaps that was the moment when the strangest of sensations met them.

Relief.

Relief that in some strange way, Prime’s attempt to divide them and make them feel small had made them feel stronger. No matter what happened, they wouldn’t be alone in this. It was more than Tactus ever expected, at least. Adora speaking again in a stammer, some tiny semblance of hope residing deep in her heart.

“I….I don’t know what I was saying…I know they’ll be fine without us but….I don’t think I’ve seen them for the last time. I don’t…I don’t think they’re going to fail. I don’t know how long from now….or how long it’s going to take, but…”

The beepings speed increased, with only 1 second left between each dreadful beep, and Adora knew her time was coming to its end. But whatever fleeting fear had found her, fluttered away entirely.

“I know we’re going to see them again and…”

Tactus was silent, letting Adora’s words enter his mind. Only nodding slowly in agreement, knowing full well they likely had entirely different beliefs of the when.

But Adora knew it now, as certain as she knew who she was, or what anything was. This wasn’t going to be the end. Her last words coming just before their time had run down, in the very instant before the beeps had completely ceased and their containers were flooded with that horrid series of pulses. Just before they would change so horrifically, Adora had gotten it out in her last words.

“We’re going to win in the end.”

* * *

As the Colonel clutched at what was left of his ear, now that Prime had left his body. He felt towards the port where the chip was crudely plugged in. Yanking it out and grinning to himself.

He had saw it in Prime’s head the moment he had claimed him, the anger and the pride. There was no negotiating out of what had happened, no surrender worthwhile. But in that moment where his pride and egotism consumed him, he did what he could to help them.

He hadn’t had full control during any of that, but what little he had, the subtle influences in the muscle movement in even the tiniest of degrees. His ear was a sacrifice, but the pain Prime had felt. It was enough of a distraction he needed to pull off the only move that could’ve worked to save them. Any shred of them.

Going in now and stopping the process would be pointless, it’d be too obvious he had interfered. But what he had done, influencing his muscle movements to just turn the dial ever so slightly lower than it could’ve been. Just keeping the levels of the pulse they’d receive low enough that there was something in them left to resist. Maybe some tiny voice would be at the back of their minds, capable of fighting it for as long as they’d need to fight it.

Grinning as he thought of that tiny owl he had seen first get dragged in, knowing that him and the Eternian would have something, even the tiniest little tweak that could work in their favor against Prime. Against this monstrous regime he had helped bring to power, which he had begun to resent with every fiber of his being.

“Good luck, Kid.” 


End file.
